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(Query No. 3,822, March 21.) 

[3,827.] The volume alluded to by Mr. Partington 
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Wigan. It has long been out of print and almost 
forgotten. I forget who was the author, but I think 
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LEGENDS 



OF 



LANCASHIRE./ 






Round the fire such Legends go." 

Sir W. Scott. 



LONDON : 

WHITTAKER, AND CO., AVE MARIA LANE,, 

AND 

R. COCKER, MARKET-PLACE, WIG AN. 



MDCCCXLI. 






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TO 



THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 



LADY STANLEY, 



WITH . HER LADYSHIP'S KIND PERMISSION, 



RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE. 

The Battle of Wigan Lane , 6 

The Witches of Furness 71 

The Devil's Wall 91 

The Prophetess and the Rebel 155 

The Spectre Coach 229 

The Cross and Lady Mabel 243 

Lancaster Castle , , 307 



# 



PREFACE 



A Preface before an Introduction seems sufficiently impudent. 

It is like popping our face in at the door for a short reconnoitre, 
before we introduce ourselves. Be it so ! 

The Chronicler of the "Legends of Lancashire " has no apology 
to offer, except to his palsied hands, for taking up the pen. He is 
not a Paul Pry, appearing before the public, with his perpetual non- 
intrusion plea. He imagines that his motives for writing the Legends 
are distinctly enough stated in the following Prospectus. 

" Lancashire, of all Counties in England, is the most interesting to 
the antiquarian. Its rivers once flowed with blood ; — its houses were 
towers, castles, or abbeys ; — its men were heroes ; — its ladies were 
witches ! But now, what a change ! The county is commercial. 
Where the trumpet of war called Arthur to his victories, the noisy 
engine is roaring. The fortresses have become factories; the abbeys 
— workhouses; — the heroes — clerks, merchants, and bankers. The 
ladies, indeed, profess to be what they were in former ages, and still 
call themselves ' Lancashire Witches.' It may not be safe for the 
'Chronicler,' aged as he is, to speak lightly of the power of their 



viii PREFACE. 

spells ; they may yet be of a deadly nature to him — for witches love 
revenge. Report says, however, that they cannot use the broomstick 
on which their ancestresses were accustomed to perform their nightly 
wanderings in the air ; but the Chronicler is not so ungallant as to 
conclude, that it is because they have broken it over their husbands' 
shoulders. The witches of a former age were accustomed, with 
awful incantations, to mix their drugs : — pooh ! — those of this age in- 
fuse a cup of comfortable tea — but surely not to chatter scandal over it. 

"Alas ! the age of chivalry and romance is gone from Lancashire. 
Its bones are in the tomb of history ; — 'but some are too gay for such 
grave meditations. Legends alone can bring it to view, amidst all 
the light of poetry ; and their wand of enchantment may call into 
existence a creation, beautiful yet real. 

"The Chronicler of the forthcoming ' Legends' undertakes to pre- 
sent his readers with a series upon individuals, events, and places, all 
connected with a former age. Charles, with cavaliers of every shade : 
— roundheads, from Cromwell down to his groom : — the old tower, 
wherein were gallant soldiers and fair ladies : — the field of battle 
fiercely contested ; — all shall appear, described, he flatters himself, 
with accuracy and faithfulness. He shall never sacrifice historical 
facts, or characters, to fiction. History, accurately sketched, he be- 
lieves to be the truest and most beautiful romance, and there is 
«nough of that in Lancashire to dispense with false colour and glitter. 
Places, dates, and names, as well as characters, shall be accurate. 

" He begs leave to say one word of himself. He is an old man, and 
this he conceives to be an advantage. The torch of tradition is most 
becoming in a trembling hand ; and its light falls with a strange 



PREFACE. ix 

harmony over the white locks of the Chronicler, while he totters on 
through the regions of the past, long forgotten ; and of which he 
himself seems to be the genius." 

He candidly confesses that he has not yet fulfilled his promise. 
That could not be done in the first volume. But the next shall be a 
continuous series of Legends connected with the civil wars, and illus- 
trative of the characters of the opposing leaders. And in these he 
shall avoid all discussions about the merits of Roundhead and Cava- 
lier. Vandyke might have given immortality to the features of 
Cromwell, as well as those of Charles, without deciding on the 
questions — ought Charles to have been beheaded, and was Cromwell 
an usurper. So the Chronicler undertakes, even in his portraits 
of leading characters, and in his sketches of events, to steer clear of 
party spirit. Still the pledge does not prohibit him from weighing 
the military and other talents of their respective leaders. Should he 
say that Cromwell, beyond all comparison as a man of genius and a 
soldier, was above Charles, it must not be inferred that he is 
a Roundhead. Or should he paint Charles as a more handsome 
and attractive man than Noll with the wart, he must not be called 
a Cavalier. 

The Chronicler had no such design as has been attributed to him, 
of " mercilessly blackening the character of Cromwell." The critic, 
evidently, had been gazing long upon some very sunny portrait of 
the Protector, and, therefore, when he came to a more sober one, 
his eyes being still dazzled, naturally thought it dark and "black/' 
Besides, really the man of the newspaper must not get deadly angry 
at the hint that his eyes are none of the best. 



x PREFACE. 

That the Chronicler is free from any such design may be seen 
by the high character which Cromwell sustains in the Legend of 
" Lancaster Castle." If it be thought that there is any contradic- 
tion between that and the " Battle of Wigan Lane," it is sufficient 
to reply, that the Cromwell of 1644> and the Cromwell of 3651 are 
very different personages indeed. When first he came into notice, 
none of his enemies could suspect the sincerity of his profession of 
republican principles, but before the above-mentioned battle, even 
some of his friends had abandoned their confidence in his honesty. 

There now only remains to say a few words regarding the contents 
of this volume. The Legends are all founded on authenticated 
traditions, and at the end of the work the documents shall be given. 
It is singular that the most improbable of them — the " Devil's Wall," 
although a most perfect tradition in all its parts, has never been 
known beyond the immediate vicinity of Ormskirk. The Legend 
founded upon it follows the tradition without one deviation except in 
the name and occupation of Gideon Chiselwig. The wall may still 
be seen. The " Witches of Furness," are the only two ladies whom 
the Chronicler knows, that are unlike to the real Lancashire Witches, 
and yet, the Legend is true. The neighbourhood of Furness, it may 
be supposed, could produce a more noble kind of Witchcraft, than 
the far-famed Pendle-hill. The latter abounds with nothing but 
witches, the down upon whose lips might have formed the brooms on 
which they careered through the air, when they had failed to throw 
their bridle over some sleepy wretch, and transform him into a 
horse. But a Legend of this kind of witchcraft shall afterwards be 
given. The "Cross and Lady Mabel," although founded on the 



INTRODUCTION. 



The Chronicler of the forthcoming " Legends " is, 
perhaps, more of an Antiquary, in disposition and 
habits, than many whose names are well known in 
Societies, which have been formed for objects of in- 
teresting research. He inhabits an old castellated 
building, which was both a fortress and a mansion, in 
some former age. Time has passed roughly over its 
proportions : he has even broken the dial, which 
marked out his own flight. Still, many relics of the 
past are left : and limbs of warlike images, and rude 
inscriptions, partly effaced, may yet be seen. The 
chisel, or even the plaster of modern art, have never 
approached its walls. No flower has sought shelter 
amidst its mantling ivy: — shelter, it should never 
find, — it would instantly be rooted up. Within, no 
partitions have been erected, to silence the sacred 
echoes of the spacious hall. The spirits of sound, 
which tenant the dwelling, would take flight upon 
the slightest change. No carpet of richest manufac- 
ture, has dared to cover the silent footsteps of the fair 
and the brave, who once to the minstrel's harp, and 
the sigh of love, trod many a gallant measure in the 

B 



£ INTRODUCTION. 

dance. The windows on the terrace, when opened, 
receive no sound from the distance, save the old echo 
of the lover's lute, greeting the maiden as she listen- 
ed in her chamber, with fluttering heart, to the fond 
tale. When seen from without, her handkerchief 
seems to float — the signal of peace and hope. To 
the Chronicler, there is no silence in these deserted 
scenes. From him, the sixteenth century has never 
departed. The echoes are still of merriment and war. 
Xnights and squires, successful in wooing or fighting, 
move before him. He mingles, with the delight of 
reality, in the banquet and the dance — and then 
rushes to the siege and the battle. Could the reader 
obtain admission to his apartment he would, as by a 
flash of lightning., be favoured with a glance — it might 
be transient to his eye, but it could never be darken- 
ed in his mind — of olden times. He would converse 
with one, who has never lived for modern change, 
and in whose white locks, and obsolete dress, he 
should behold a living specimen of a former century, 
as if it had literally descended from that time. The 
Chronicler must be excused for speaking of himself. 
Who could forbid any of the followers of Cromwell, 
qt Charles, to arise- — the one to recite with solemn 
countenance and lengthened drawl; and the other 
with a dissipated air of pleasant vice — their respect- 
ive achievements, whilst their manner, and costume 
are thoroughly scanned ? What cavalier would ban 



INTRODUCTION. 6 

the Protector, even Nol with. his nose and ominous 
wart, from again appearing, to reveal to us those stern 
and inflexible features, and to discourse to us, in one 
of those intricate speeches, which none could under- 
stand, — for, like his own dark and wily spirit, they 
baffled all knowledge ? Or what republican could 
say " nay," as the king's court was brought into view, 
with the handsome, though melancholy martyr, at its 
head, surrounded as he was, unfortunately, by gilded 
butterflies ?• In like manner, the Chronicler hopes, 
that no one can be inclined to prevent a specimen of 
these times from intruding himself, for a little on 
the attention of his readers. 

He is now seated, writing from an inkhorn said to 
have been the property of General Fairfax ; and 
leaning on a table, once heavily laden with a feast, of 
which royalists and republicans alike partook, on a 
day of truce. Other relics of that time are around 
hirn ; but there is one dearer than all besides — a 
lovely daughter — a descendant, by the mother's side, 
of an ancient family of distinction, from whom 
Charles II., during his wanderings, received shelter, 
and subsequently, assistance to mount the throne. 
She sings to him the ballads of other days, and they 
revive again in the echo of her music. For her, as 
well as for her father, this is but the sixteenth cen- 
tury ; and though only in her seventeenth summer, 
she rejects all the amusements of more modern times. 



4 INTRODUCTION 

He has resolved, out of fondness for the days that 
are gone, as well as affection for his daughter, that no 
lover fresh from the approbation of his tailor, and the 
flattery of his mirror, practised in bows and compli- 
ments acquired at the theatre — shall ever find ad- 
mission to his beloved Jane. He would sooner give 
her to an ourang-outang than a fop. The favoured 
suitor must, indeed, be handsome, learned, and 
brave ; he must breathe a song of love in the good 
old style, beneath her lattice, when the moon and 
stars are shedding their light over the old mansion. 
Nor must he be an Antiquary, in the modern sense 
of the word. He may enter with the long essay, 
which he read to the British Association, in his 
pocket, peeping out instead of the handkerchief 
of the dandy ; he may drag behind his name, all 
the letters of the alphabet, as honorary titles; 
the Chronicler shall lead him to the door by 
a way, to detail the curiosities of which, must obtain 
for him additional laurels. He shall, to a certainty, 
likewise qualify him for describing the strength of an 
oak cudgel. Nor must he be a silly Poet, a thing 
distilled of sighs, flames, water, and earth, who 
should have lived in the moon to address sonnets to 
her, and not on earth, since the envious clouds pre- 
vent her from seeing and reading them, as well as the 
brown paper of a garret window. Should any 
such find his way here, the Chronicler promises to 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

compliment his head with a salutation froni a good 
round of. old England's beef. No, no, the favoured 
suitor must be of a different genus ; and his lute, 
moreover, must have no resemblance to the sighing 
guitar of Venice, or the rude -whistle of England. 
And the Chronicler has sometimes been of opinion, 
that his daughter has made the same resolution. Of 
late, he has caught the sound of a manly serenade, 
and he has observed her blush, and occasionally 
leave the room. Nay, he has met her rambling 
through the adjoining thickets, with the son of an old 
friend, whose romance is in the past, and he has 
blessed them both. Yes, handsome and talented is 

. He had -written the name, when Jane, 

looking over his shoulder hi womanly curiosity, be- 
held it. Shrieking, she immediately snatched the 
pen from his hand, and scratched through it the 
above stroke, and gave her fond old father a playful 
blow : yet now she seems thoughtful and sorry for 
having violated that dear name, by blotting it, and is 
half inclined to rewrite it herself. Fear not ! Eate 
will draw no such ominous mark over it, and all 
that binds it to you is love and happiness. 

To confide a secret to the reader, since the last 
sentence was written, the Chronicler has received a 
hint that the proof sheets of the following " Legends " 
may be read by his son-in-law ! Nay, this very 
night, the lovers shall be formally betrothed, over a 

b2 



THE BATTLE OF 



Bible, which has been stained by the blood of its 
former possessor — a holy^martyr — and the sword of 
an old English patriot shall be placed in the young 
man's hand ; therewith to defend religion — a wife — 
and a country. 



The ceremony is performed, and both press the 
old man to read the nra$ Legend. He gives his as- 
sent, and, at the same time, orders chairs to be set 
for his dear friends, the Public ; whom he has re- 
spectfully invited, and whose attention he now humbly 
craves to 

THE LEGEND OF 

THE BATTLE OF WIGAN LANE. 



Few battlements now remain, of one of the best for- 
tified castles that ever defended Lancashire, and the 
King. But two centuries ago, and Houghton Tower, 
situated at the distance of four miles and a half to the 
west of Blackburn, stood proudly, and seemed in itself, 
without the assistance of garrison or artillery, to be 
capable of maintaining a successful struggle with the 
power of any enemy. All around were peaceful vales, 
where primitive simplicity dwelt ; and often has the 
traveller, at eve,, laid himself down on the green knolls, 



WIGAN LANE. 7 

beside the gently flowing stream of the classic Darwen, 
in order to become as happy, as every object near him; 
to enjoy the gambols of the lambs frisking about; and 
to view the milkmaid, as, with a light step, and a 
merry heart, she tripped across the glen. He has then 
fancied himself, not only retired for ever from the 
theatre of war, but likewise from the mart of com- 
merce; and happy has he been that there was an 
Eden sacred to his imaginatifti, at the very time when 
the face as well as the heart of his country was blight- 
ed by civil strife, and stained by the blood of its 
own sons, shed by the murdering hand of their 
brothers. But suddenly — to jar upon all the rural 
sounds by which he was greeted — the shrill trumpet 
was heard loud and near, startling the silent echoes 
of the green woods on the banks of the river, and on 
emerging from the vale, the fortresses of Houghton 
Tower were seen, dark and sullen, against the fading 
light of the sky. The challenge of the warder, and 
the fastening of the draw-bridge, were of war, and en- 
tirely dispelled the previous calm. Who could have 
imagined that in the bosom of such beautiful vales 
there could be a mass of frowning rock, so huge as 
that on which the castle was built ? or, that amongst 
a class of venerable patriarchs, distinguished for sim- 
plicity of manners and life, there could be the restless 
spirits of war to fortify and maintain it ? And yet it 
seemed to be a castle of nature's building, and not of 



8 THE BATTLE OF 

. art's ; for tall trees over-shadowed its turrets, and 
around its base the Darwen flowed over its deepest 
channel. 

It had been erected by Sir Thomas Houghton, to- 
wards the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, and the gal- 
lant knight had always supported a garrison in it, 
evidently for no other purpose than to fire a salute, 
at every anniversary of his birth day. But he died, 
and so did his queen : and upon the accession of the 
learned James to the throne, folios became the only 
battlements. His descendant, Sir Gilbert, was ho- 
noured with a visit from that monarch, in his celebra- 
ted " Progress " through Lancashire ; and from the 
tower of Houghton, the modern Solomon fired his wit 
from an old Latin mortar. " Our opinion " said the 
grave fool and the merry sage, "whilkhath been kept 
for some time, as our jester Horace (the oyster eater 
should have lived in our court) recommends, in our 
desk," — and here he pointed to his brow, with his 
usual self-complacency — "our opinion is," he con- 
tinued, " that Houghton Tower is just like a Scotch 
pudding -^- ha ! — ha !-— Sir Gilbert ; — your castle is a 
pudding, and you are chief butler, and all your men 
are cooks ! We say so." 
But another reign brought different scenes. Upon 
the disputes of Charles and the Parliament, a strong 
garrison was again supported in the tower, and , the 
costly velvet which had decked the " Progress " of 



WIGAN LANE. 9 

James, through the ponderous gateway, was removed 
from the trampling hoof of 4he war steed. The Par- 
liamentary army besieged it, but it made a bold de- 
fence, until, by accident, the magazine of powder in 
the strongest battlement, was ignited; and as the 
assailants were making a vigorous effort, all at once 
three of the buttresses were blown up, and Cromwell's 
troops were masters of Houghton Tower, having 
taken all the garrison as prisoners. Their governor, 
Sir Gilbert, had fallen in the assault. His son 
Richard was heir, and the rightful lord of the tower, 
but he was confined in a dungeon, along with his 
youngest daughter, Anne — for all her sisters 
were married. But the wily Cromwell, when he was 
compelled to lead his troops to Ireland, secretly 
advised his officers in the garrison to give out that 
they were willing to conspire against the Parliament, 
and to return to their allegiance, in order that he 
might be privy to every intended movement of the 
Royalists. The plot was successful. As soon as 
Cromwell had departed from England, (he never had 
resided in the tower,) this resolution was made known, 
and to prove its sincerity, Sir Richard Houghton was 
restored to his claims as governor of Houghton Tower, 
which was once more considered as a strong-hold of 
the Royalists ; while virtually it was hi the power of 
spies, who secretly conveyed all intelligence of any 
loyal movement which was, or had been concerting, — 
to the General. 



10 THE BATTLE OF 

The scene of our Legend opens in the year 1651, 
on a beautiful evening towards the end of August, 
when the setting rays of the autumn sun fell, with a 
luxurious light, on the grey fortresses, and the float- 
ing banner. The fair Anne was walking alone, 
on the eastern battlement which overlooked the 
valley. She was of slight proportions, and her age 
could not have exceeded sixteen, though she was 
possessed of a mind nobly accomplished, in which 
genius and passion were now beginning to develope 
themselves, in beauty and power. Her features were 
eminently noble, and beautiful; yet changing to. 
every expression, as if they themselves thought and 
felt. In one mood, she might have sat to the painter, 
for a true image of the laughing and innocent Hebe ; 
one who would have danced away an immortality in 
smiles, with no other wreathes than her own 
beautiful hah*, and no other company than her 
own thoughts and love : more gay and gladsome 
than a child of earth, — the genius of witchery. In 
another, for that of Melancholy, her long dark 
locks hanging over a face so pale, with the colour 
and the life of hope dashed from it, as was hope it- 
self, from her mind. Her form was moulded in the 
most perfect symmetry of beauty, — not luxurious, 
but spiritual. 

The weeds of mourning for her mother, who had 
died a few months before, had been thrown aside ; 



WIGAN LANE. 11 

but tlie paleness of her cheeks, and the tremor of her 
lips, spoke the sorrow of her heart. Her locks 
waved to the breeze. Her eye kindled with enthu- 
siasm, as, quickly placing her small hand upon her 
marble brow, she exclaimed, " how tranquil and how 
beautiful is earth now. Yonder cottages, with their 
ivy porches, around which children are sporting, 
appear as if they were the habitations of young 
spirits. England is blessed in her cottages — but 
ah! — in her palaces! — no crown for the sun's rays 
to fall upon ! Once the sun gleamed upon the crown 
placed carelessly amidst the state ornaments, in the 
palace : — without, upon the gory head of the king, 
which had once been invested by it ; and last of all, 
upon his headless trunk. Oh! that his son — now 
returned, might be blessed with conquest." 

At this moment, her eye was arrested by a reflection 
of light in the distance. It was the gleam of arms, 
from a small body of soldiers; over whom the 
banner of Charles was waving. 

In her joy, Anne Houghton clasped her hands, 
and fervently said, " Thank God ! all are not trai- 
tors." She turned round, and met the searching 
glance of Colonel Seaton, one of Cromwell's spies. 

" Fair lady — yonder troop is a loyal body. But 
— " and his countenance darkened with thought as 
he spoke, — " they have now encamped, and three 
horsemen leave the line, and are galloping in the 






12 THE BATTLE OF 

direction of the tower. Well — for their reception !" 
There seemed to be a concealed meaning in his 
tones, and in haste he strode away. Three men 
were now seen approaching the avenue which led to 
the gateway. The foremost seemed to have no ar- 
mour, but a sword. He wore no helmet, but a low 
cap, with a white plume. He was clad in a mourn- 
ing garb, and over his left arm his cloak was flung, as 
for a shield. Keen was his eye, though he had evi- 
dently passed the meridian of life, and the fair lady 
of the tower almost believed that she only stood at a 
short distance from him — so quick was its flash. Be- 
hind him was a handsome youth, equipped in light 
panoply, who seemed fitted either for contesting the 
battlefield — or for sighing, not unpitied, in a ladyV 
bower. Light was the rein which he passed over his 
charger, and yet, as it plunged furiously, the rider sat 
with indifference. The third horseman, who seemed 
altogether absorbed with papers on which he was 
glancing, was the most stalwart. His coat of mail 
was clasped over a breast, full and prominent, and 
his horse startled whenever his mailed hand was 
placed upon its mane, to urge it forward. His eye 
never sought the fortress of the tower, until they had 
arrived at the drawbridge — when the warder's horn 
sounded the challenge, and Sir Gilbert appeared on 
the walls. The first horseman called out, " The Earl 
of Derby, with two friends, in the service of Charles." 



WIG AX LANE. 27 

" Fear not/' the Colonel again said ; " they are 
safe. They have been men of blood, and it is but 
befitting them, that they should undergo a cleansing. 
The ruffian Tyldesley pointed out to me some 
stains of blood upon his armour — aye, the blood 
of our companions : the well shall wash them out. 
Your excellency shall triumph over all your ene- 
mies." 

"Again," interrupted his companion, "I charge 
it upon you. I am not wont to come unattended, 
but, at present, I have run every hazard, encountered 
every danger, to learn how our cause prospers. The 
enemy is in our power. Seaton shall defeat Derby 
at Houghton Tower, and his general shall defear 
Charles at Worcester." 

The stranger here spoke in a soothing and flat- 
tering tone. He added a few more words, but they 
were inaudible. The speakers then trod to and fro, 
upon the battlements, conversing with each other in 
whispers. Sometimes the stamp of the stranger was 
heard enforcing his words. 

The fair Anne, concealed with her attendant, 
behind the engine, had listened in terror to the pre- 
ceding conversation. She saw that they were sur- 
rounded by the most artful plots, managed by power- 
ful and experienced agents ; that the cause for 
which she had so long implored the assistance of 



28 THE BATTLE OF 

heaven, was in the greatest danger ; that her father, 
and yo-nng Tyldesley, whom she did not now blush 
to think of as a very dear friend, with his uncle, and 
Derby, must perish ; and that she herself was at the 
mercy of stern and unflinching ruffians. But how 
could she inform them of treachery, when the traitors 
were walking near the place of her concealment? 
Every moment seemed an hour; and, perhaps, it 
was then being determined that every royalist in 
the tower, should be dragged by the garrison, to 
a disgraceful end ! She was almost frantic with 
impatience, and she knew, likewise, that one slight 
movement of her posture, as well as a whisper, 
might betray her. 

Again the two republicans stood opposite to the 
place where the females were concealed, and their 
conversation could be heard. 

" All is safe," said the stranger. " A few hours 
will bear me to my men, assured that no enemy can 
annoy me in the rear ; and before me is the hungry 
skeleton of a wandering king. Pity that the royal 
fool will not become my groom. He should be fed 
and clad, and I might, eventually, raise him to hold 
my stirrup." There was intense mockery in his 
tones. He continued, — " aye, and when his time 
allowed him to sport, I might procure him a gilded 
staff for his sceptre, and he might crown him- 



W1GAX LANE. ZV 

self, with, straw from the manger — the Lord's 
anointed ! " 

Not a smile passed over the face of the speaker, 
and Seaton, was silent. The words were too earnest 
to be taken as humourous sallies. The stranger 
resumed, — " He returns again to England, Poor 
fool ! Nature seems to have beheaded him at his 
birth! and all that the Lord's people can do, is to 
bury him." The speaker's scorn here seemed to in- 
crease, until he became silent. Colonel Seaton ven- 
tured to inquire — 

" Your excellency departs early ?" 

" In a few minutes hence," was the reply. " I 
may be suspected; — as I entered the hall, Derby 
seemed to recall my features. The dead, methinks, 
have a better cause to bear me in memory, than 
the living. Yet Derby should recollect me ; I once 
crossed swords with him, disguised in habit, but not 
in countenance ; and to a singular incident he owed 
his safety. He fought bravely, and I should have 
dispatched him gallantly, had — but this avails not 
now. He seems to know me." 

u Nay," replied Seaton, " he spoke kindly to you 
after I explained the purport of your visit. Let us 
return to the hall for a little." 

"Why?" asked the stranger proudly; — "to be 
discovered? and then the stay of England's army 

c % 



30 THE BATTLE OF 

and England's freedom would be broken! No, I 
mount horse instantly. " 

" Your hasty departure may excite suspicion, and 
frustrate our schemes." 

" ' Tis well. I go to bid them adieu, a long adieu ; 
'tis probable that I may never see them more. I am 
not in the habit of searching wells, there to renew 
old acquaintanceship." 

They passed on. Anne started up from her con- 
cealment. Not a moment was to be lost, after the re- 
publican disappeared in the distance. But alas ! she 
could gain admittance to the hall by no other way 
than that which they had taken. She reached the 
hall door, — she heard her father, in a loud and merry 
tone of voice, pledge the health and safety of the 
strange. For a moment she stood irresolute, when 
Seaton and his companion appeared. " Fair maid," 
said the stranger, " receive my wishes and prayers, 
as I bid you adieu." In a moment he was gone, 
and she rushed into the hall. 

" Speak not ! ask no questions, noble warriors ! " 
she exclaimed. " We are betrayed ! Yes, father, 
that stranger you have harboured as a guest, is a re- 
publican, and Seaton has been acting as his spy. 
The garrison are likewise traitors, and from us all 
escape is cut off — 

" I knew that it was Cromwell," replied Derby, 



WIG AN LANE. 31 

as lie started from his seat, " but heaven grant that 
he is not yet beyond our reach ; I ' 11 die in capturing 
him ! My friends, let us pursue ! " 

He drew his sword, and every sign of feebleness 
left his frame. Attended by his two companions, and 
the governor, he rushed forth, exclaiming " treason ! 
treason ! " 

Fiery and impatient were their spirits, and as 
hasty their steps. They came within sight of the 
drawbridge. It was up : and as they rushed forward, 
a horseman spurred his steed across it, and it again 
fell, and all communication was prevented. Cromwell 
had escaped ! and in the bitterness of disappointment 
Derby and the governor stood bewildered, and 
thought not of securing the traitor Seaton. They 
returned to the hall without perceiving that Sir 
Thomas Tyldesley had left them, until the inquiries 
of Anne rendered them aware of his absence. When 
they were alternately expressing their disappoint- 
ment at Cromwell's escape, and their surprise as to 
what had befallen the knight, a shriek was heard, as 
coming from the nearest turret. Anne exclaimed, 
" the garrison are traitors, and they are now slaying 
Sir Thomas." 

" Nay, lady," said the earl, " Tyldesley must first 
become coward, ere a shriek escape him, though tor- 
tured beyond endurance. He would express triumph 



32 , THE BATTLE OF 

even in death. But let us hasten. Fair lady, 
you may be safer under our protection than in the 
hall. Lean on Harry's arm, it is the arm of a 
soldier — come ■;" and they hastened to the place 
whence the noise proceeded. The moon shone full 
on their faces, and gave them, to the gaze of each 
other, a strange mystery. A step was heard in the 
distance, and soon Sir Thomas Tyldesley stood before 
them, with his naked sword in his hand. He bade 
them follow. He halted at the distance of a hundred 
yards, and raising up an object which lay motionless, 
revealed the lifeless body of Seaton. He tossed it 
down ; and there it lay, with ghastly features, all 
marked with blood, turned upon the spectators. A 
sword was beside the body : the knight grasped it, 
and said, — 

<e The traitor fell by his own weapon. Thrice 
through the heart I stabbed him with it, for I would 
not wound him with a sword which I received from 
our late master." 

" He richly deserved a thousand deaths," ejaculated 
the governor. 

" Kichly indeed," replied Tyldesley, " had all 
his villainy been comprehended in this night's 
treachery. He lowered the drawbridge, and while 
we stood astonished and motionless with anger, 
attempted to retreat. I followed him. He muttered 
to himself, ( Cromwell is safe, and now for the mutiny 



WIGAN LANE. 66 

in the garrison.' He reached the highest battlements. 
Rushing past him, I presented myself full on his path, 
and ordered him to stand on his defence, or die. He 
hesitated ; entreated me for his life ; wished to be 
thought a coward ; and yet all the time was cautiously, 
and, as he thought, secretly, drawing his sword. He 
knelt, and then, imagining that I was bending over 
him, he made a furious thrust, which I foiled, and 
struck his weapon from his hand. Ha ! it seems to 
pollute my hand as I now grasp it." The knight 
approached the walls, and tossed it over. In its de- 
scent it glimmered in the moonshine, and the blood- 
stains were seen, until it fell into the river. 

He returned, and taking up the body of Seaton, said, 
" let its master share the same fate," and instantly 
hurled it over, and a heavy splash was heard. 

" So much for a traitor," said Derby, " but did not 
the young lady say that all the garrison were traitors 
also ? What then is to be done ? Let us leave the 
tower, for if they knew of the murder of their leader, 
all our lives would be sacrificed, and my troops could 
not advance to the assistance of Charles. What dost 
thou advise. Sir Governor ? " 

" I cannot leave Houghton Tower," was the 
reply. " I am its owner, and must either live or 
die in it," 

" Perhaps," interrupted his daughter, " the gar- 



34 THE BATTLE OF 

rison, since Seaton is dead, and all other sup- 
porters are at a distance, may not openly rebel for 
some time." 

" Maiden," said Derby, " thy counsel is good. 
Let them, moreover, be informed of Seaton's just 
death, and should they revolt, it would be at the 
moment, and then Sir Richard might hang out a 
signal from the walls, and in a short time my troops 
would advance to the rescue. Meanwhile, Sir 
Thomas, it is necessary that we should instantly be 
at the head of our men, prepared for every emer- 
gency. Let us to horse ! " 

This proposal met the spjiction of the warrior. 
Our young hero, however, turned pale ; he was to 
be torn from the object of his fondest love, never, 
perhaps, to meet again. He committed his mistress 
to the care of her attendant, who now appeared. 

" Nay," said Sir Richard. " We part not thus ; 
let my noble guests once more, in the hall, pledge 
the good old cause. Meanwhile your horses shall 
be prepared for the way." 

Young Tyldesley, as long as they remained in the 
hall, looked in vain for Anne to enter. He was 
obliged: to leave without pronouncing farewell. 

They had now reached the gateway, where stood 
their horses. A young page was likewise in waiting, 
who craved in a low, yet sweet voice, to accompany 



WIGAN LANE. 35 

them, as he was of no use to Lis fair mistress, 
and might be the bearer of warlike messages, though 
a very unwarlike personage himself. 

" Does your mistress know of your departure ? " 
asked Sir Thomas Tyldesley. 

" Yes," was the reply. 

" Then, nephew, he is but of slender form, and 
cannot burden your horse. Mount him behind you." 

When all was in readiness, the drawbridge arose, 
they spurred their horses, the moon shone upon the 
armed horsemen, and the pale face of the page, who 
clung fast to Henry Tyldesley, and soon from the 
tower their march could not be heard. 

Sir Richard sat in the hall, considering in what 
manner he should best break his message to the 
garrison. Wishing to consult Anne, whom he fondly 
loved, and whom, young as she was, he used to call 
his premier, he retired to her private chamber, but 
she was not there. He was not at first alarmed, 
because he knew, that on a moonlight night, she was in 
the habit of walking on the battlements, and enjoying 
the sweet influences which breathed upon her from 
so many sources. But after an hour had passed, and 
still she came not, though she must have known the 
perplexed state of her father's mind, occasioned by 
the strange events which that night had disclosed, 
he summoned her attendant. 

" Where is my daughter ? " anxiously asked the 



36 THE BATTLE OF 

knight. The woman was silent, but some secret 
intelligence seemed lurking on her lips. Sir Richard 
became enraged ; at length, she muttered, " She 
is not in Houghton Tower." 

" Not in Houghton Tower ! " exclaimed the knight, 
half frenzied. " And she is lost to me ! There she 
was born, there she has lived, the only flower of my 
hopes and love, which my own heart's blood would 
have been willing to cherish ; aye ! and there she 
should have died ! The little chapel, where she has 
so often prayed by my side, would have given her a 
holy grave, and the withered hands of her old father 
before they were stiff in death, would have gathered 
a few blossoms, and strewn them over it. She's 
gone ! — gone !" 

The woman stood speechless at the ravings of 
her master. His mind had always before been calm, 
as the stillest ', "embosomed in a summer glen. 
Even when lu j died, the composure of a feature 
was not disturbed. Amidst treachery and ^private 
grief he had been unmoved. But now, what agitation 
amidst the silent thoughts of an old heart ! Beau- 
tifully was it fabled by the ancients, that should the 
sleeping waters of Lethe, on whose fair breast, no 
breeze came to silence the murmur of its loving 
waves, which were only heard by young spirits 
revelling there — be stormed into fury by any in- 
fluence, no trident of Neptune could assuage them. 




WIGAN LANE. 37 

The young, when their hopes are blasted, know 
nothing of the grief felt by the aged, when their 
last hope dies, and when winter is over their feelings. 

At length Sir Richard recovered himself, so far as 
to inquire where his daughter was. " She has gone," 
was the reply, " with the Earl of Derby. The 
young horseman has avowed his love for her." 

" Eternal curses on them all ! " thundered forth the 
knight. " Thus it is. These old men have conspired 
to ruin her. Derby pressed her upon the youth's 
notice, and has persuaded her to accompany them. 
They are pledged against her innocence ! aye ! " his 
rage still increasing, — "so have I heard of the un- 
licensed conduct of cavaliers — but I will be revenged ! 
— and henceforth, I am the bitter enemy of all royal- 
ists ! " In a moment, passion and love for his 
daughter had brought him to this conclusion. He 
invoked curses on Charles. Every prepossession in 
favour of the cause which he hi 'i see erto supported, 
was gone, and in its place, innex^ md active hate 
had entered. 

He left the hall, and acquainted the garrison, — 
who, we have seen, were well disposed to Cromwell, 
with his daughter's flight, and instantly inspired them 
with deadly revenge. They all loved Anne; she 
had listened to the tale of war which the very 
humblest of them had to recite ; and many of them 



38 THE BATTLE OF 

had almost been compelled to acquaint her with the 
plot of the Parliamentary officers. But at present 
they were cool enough to observe, that it would 
neither be prudent nor safe to make a sally upon 
Derby's followers, to whom they were inferior in 
number. It was, therefore, agreed, that at the hour 
of midnight, fifty men from the tower should ac- 
company Sir Richard Houghton, to join the army of 
Captain Lilbourne, who was then supposed to be 
marching from Manchester, to seize on "VVigan, 
and defend it against the royalists. Thus, Sir 
Richard Houghton, formerly a true, though by no 
means an active, defender of Charles, became a 
zealous supporter of Cromwell. 

Long before morning had dawned upon the camp, 
the Earl of Derby was stirring about, and ordering 
all to be in readiness for departure. : No signal had 
been. seen from Houghton Tower. It was, therefore, 
concluded, that there had been no mutiny in the 
garrison. In a short time, the trumpet was sounded, 
and all were mounted, waiting the command to 
march. Derby rode into the centre, in full armour, 
accompanied by his faithful servant, a Frenchman, 
who was proud to behold his master once more 
arrayed for the field, where he should distinguish 
himself. Every lock of his dark hair was concealed 
beneath'his steel-front beaver, and the mournful ex- 



WIGAN LANE. 39 

pression usual to his features, was now exchanged for 
that of sternness. A loud shout was raised for 
" King Charles and Derby." 

The trumpets sounded, and in triple rank, with 
the earl in front, and Sir Thomas Tyldesley and his 
nephew, accompanied by the young page, in the 
rear, they hastily marched on. Lord Widdrington, 
and Sir Robert Throgmorton, with a few soldiers, 
rode in different directions, to give the alarm, should 
the enemy appear, though that was not considered as 
at all likely. 

The page kept close by young Tyldesley, in the 
march; yet he spoke little, even when Anne Houghton, 
his mistress, was introduced to be praised. Upon 
giving expression to a beautiful and earnest prayer, 
that Charles might return to his own, young Tyldesley 
took his hand; it shrunk timidly from his grasp. 
" Poor page," and as he spoke, he drew his arm 
around his slender form, " thou seemest to be but ill 
nerved for this day's work. Thou tremblest." 

" I have left many dear friends behind me, and I 
am here alone." 

" But not unbefriended," was Tyldesley's reply. 
(i Keep by me ; I will avert danger from thee. Be 
merry, gentle youth, and thou shalt yet dance a 
gay measure with your mistress, — when she is my 
bride." 



r - — the crimson colonr which mantled his 
featoxf : . : : _ g to a deadly paleness as he spoke, 
" should yon fell, what is for ult 
_^ safe return to your mist: 
N answer was given : the page turned away 
ead, hut not before a tear had Mien upon 
_ . ^ ~ :mcL 

They had now marched for two hours, and the 
town of Wigan was seen in the distance. As they 
adVanced, the reapers were busy in their quiet 
occupations, amidst the richly waving crops. The 
Earl of Derby was, in his own mind, contrasting the 
:f peace, with the miseries of war, when, all at 
once. Lord Widdrington and Sir Iliomafi Throg- 
morton were galloping towards him. The earl 
spurred from the lines, and met diem. 

•• The enemy is approaching — the day must be 
lost, — they are some thousand strong.* 5 

Derby turned pale at the intelligence. He had 
hoped to pos— iran as a strong-hold, until he 

had cleared a way to Worcester, to join his 
S ; -- ri : a _ n E at ids paleness soon fled- " Dost 

_ Txclaimed, "these few reapers cutting 
lawn whole fields of corn, — and shall we not take 
courage from them ? " 

. : !■?!:. _r --■_--__-_; r:uni :: zz.- 
Tvldv sle -«. 3.nd announced to them the move- 
i£s :: the en any 



WIG A3" EAJIB. 

■•' They have even taken possession of W%an, 5 
id, "the strong-hold of loyaky." The -.::! 
then lmcovermg his head, looked round upon Ida 
troops, and solemnly bade every soldiei ask :._ 
blessing of the God of battles. The helme: was 
raised from every head, and every eye was fixed 
upward, as the small army prayed. 

" Let your prayers," interrupted Derby, Vi be sHk- 
: and even that youthful v : _ i : . —nose cheek is 
pale for coming iang er 3 may be nerved to deal havoc 
among the eneziy. Now let the march be sounded, 
and let us, \rith all possible Master scour :; Wigan 
And when we encounter, as soon we must, — you 
have children, — there is strength in your arm : 
have wives — the thought is worth a hundred swords . 
you have a king — fight, therefore, in their defence ! 
Less than an hour's march must bring us front to 
front with the enemy, and the~ are reported to be 
n :;:::fr ;::>."" 

.": ont to front ! ' ' exclaimed Sir Thomas Tyl . si ; 
" 5 —;•-■;. :: sw woi! Let as meet the::: 

** Poor youth," said B : i h j , a 3 Lis eye : e s : : 3 oil the 
pale lace of the | a ge; " d: a ba s : neither a s : 1 di : : s 
form nor heart, thou shouldst have remained to amuse 
mistress. And ye:" he as if entirely 

absorbed in his own remembrances, *~ f my com 
: required such a compani; :: h : " :: ; Less b : 1 
^ruard her. should Z never see her mc: 



42 



THE BATTLE OF 



"Nor, does my mistress, noble earl," replied the 
page, quickly, while his dark and beautiful eye 
glowed keenly : " and I too, whatever my form and 
look may bespeak, am ready to lose a life for my so- 
vereign. I shudder to draw a sword, but I will not 
shudder to receive it, — aye, in my bosom ! " 

Never did the most herculean form appear more 
warlike, than did the youthful speaker. His firmly 
chiselled mouth was pressed together with a deadly 
expression of resolve, and the soft eyelash was arched, 
as if it could slay. 

" Bravo," exclaimed the elder Tyldesley, " a true 
knight ; and yet fair sir, a maiden speaks of bosom, — 
a hero speaks of heart ! " 

Unconsciously, at this moment, the page had spurred 
his steed, which plunged furiously. Like lightning, 
a slender arm reached over the proud mane — grasped 
the bridle — and in a moment, he was quiet as before. 
The strength of a giant horseman, could not have so 
tamed him. In the suddenness of the motion, the 
plumed beaver of the rider had fallen, and like some 
young and beautiful spirit of power, with dark ring- 
lets, curling over a brow of glistening thought and 
love, and as if quelling the furious tempest, the page 
leaned forward, on his steed. 

" Nay, nay," said the earl, " spur on, and let us 
not delay to meet the foe." 



WIGAN LANE. 43 

The gallant army marched on rapidly, and in a few 
minutes, as the sun streamed from the eastern clouds, 
the rays fell upon Wigan, seen in the distance. Only 
one sound was borne to the ear, and it was the tramp- 
ling of horses. " They come," was the general cry. 
" On, on," exclaimed their leader, " let Charles's ban- 
ner be unfurled, and soon we shall plant it, to wave 
over the church tower ! " 

A few minutes more brought them to the entrance 
of the town. A strong hedge skirted both sides of 
the road. The windings were many and abrupt, and 
the sharp angular view, was over the rocky heights 
on the banks of the Douglas, and almost suggested 
the appearance of traitors, so unexpectedly were many 
of the scenes brought before them. The scenery 
of the country around, was wild, and marked that 
here, war would not be out of keeping. Young 
Tyldesley took his uncle's hand, to bid him farewell, 
for now the impression rested on every mind, that 
from the unusual stillness, the stern sounds of combat 
might soon be heard. Silence seemed to be the soft 
whispers of a traitor ! secret, but sure. A tear stole 
down the hardy cheek of the veteran, as he blessed 
his companion. 

" This parting," he added, " seems ominous. 
' Twas thus your gallant father bade me adieu, for 
the last time. Yet, Harry, another grasp of your 
hand. Farewell, my brave boy." 



44 THE BATTLE OF 

They rode on without exchanging another word, 
when the young soldier felt himself gently touched, 
and, on turning round, beheld the page, who, with 
averted face, said — " Excuse me, but farewell, Harry 
Tyldesley, should I seo you no more." 

" We part not thus, for your mistres's sake. Ride 
by my side, and you may command this arm to strike 
for your safety." 

At this moment the small army heard some half- 
concealed movement made, behind the hedges, and 
instantly a close fire of musketry; — only a few 
were wounded. 

" The foe are in ambush ! " exclaimed Sir Thomas. 

"Nay," replied the earl, "the greater part are 
before us," pointing to a large army which now 
appeared. " Let us advance. Sir Thomas, take the 
half of the band, and I shall lead the others. Let a 
halt be sounded. We can do nothing against those 
who fire from the hedges. Let us cut through the 
main body. — A halt ! " 

Ere the signal had been given, many a brave 
fellow, had indeed, halted, never more to advance, as 
a second volley, directed with a steadier aim, was 
poured in upon them. 

Derby, in a moment, was at the head of his de- 
tachment. " Soldiers of Charles ! " he said, with 
energetic eloquence, "there are his enemies and 



WIGAN LANE. 45 

yours; and where are your swords? Be mangled 
— be slain — but yield not. Hear your leader's vow. 
Upon this good sword, I swear, that as long as steel 
can cut, flesh shall wield. — Charge ! Upon them ! 
The king ! the king ! " and they dashed on to meet 
the enemy. 

Colonel Lilbourne, who commanded the enemy, 
instantly arrayed his men, to bear up against the 
attack, and a dense square was formed from hedge to 
hedge, of the regular troops, while the militia of 
Lancashire and Cheshire were formed into a wing, 
to close in upon the royalists, when they engaged 
with the main body. 

Derby, with his three hundred men, spurred on 
with incredible fury, until they found themselves 
hand to hand with the regular troops. They were 
instantly surrounded, for the militia wing had 
wheeled, and now assailed them in the rear. A 
shout from the Parliamentary army was raised, as the 
three hundred seemed to be bound in their power, 
when Sir Thomas Tyldesley, with his men, advanced ; 
and so furious was the onset, that the enemy were 
literally trodden under foot, and Derby and the 
knight were riding abreast, at the head of their 
respective bodies, fighting to cut a passage through 
the dragoons. Heedless of danger, the royalists 
followed every direction of their leaders, who, them- 



46 THE BATTLE OF 

selves, fought, as well as commanded. They had now 
almost reached the extremity of Lilbourne's forces, 
and bloody was the passage which they had made. 

" One effort more," said the earl to his men, " and 
all is gained! — On!" The battle raged more 
furiously — Derby's sword, at every thrust and 
plunge, was stained with fresh gore ; but, all of a 
sudden, he stood pale and surprised — for there was 
Sir Richard Houghton advancing to meet him, from 
Lilbourne's guard, with drawn sword. Could he 
have turned traitor ? The earl's weapon was as ready 
for a blow, as his heart was for a curse upon a false 
knight, and instantly they would have crossed 
swords, had not Derby's steed been shot from under 
him, while that of the recreant knight carried his 
rider beyond him, safe and unharmed. On foot the 
earl fought with as much execution as when mounted ; 
but his voice could not be heard, as he addressed his 
men, from amidst the hoofs of the enemy's horse. 
An officer of the enemy approached. In a moment 
he was dragged from the saddle,, pierced as he lay on 
the ground, and as his dying eyes were raised, he 
beheld Derby mounting his horse. Many blows 
were then showered upon the gallant nobleman, 
and some deadly thrusts were made in the direction 
of his breast, but he seemed to escape unhurt. 

The next moment placed Derby at the extremity 



WIGAX LANE. 47 

of the opposing lines. " King Charles and England's 
royalty ! " was the shout that burst from his lips, and, 
although it was heard by the enemy, for a few 
moments they fell back from the single arm of the 
loyal nobleman. There seemed something super- 
natural in his bearing, so calm, and yet so furious. 
Taking advantage of their inactivity, he dashed 
through the rear. A gleam of simshine flashed on 
his armour, and hope entered his soul, as he found 
himself at the top of the steep and sweeping descent 
which leads to the town. It was then rocky and 
precipitous, but his horse never stumbled. For a 
moment he wheeled round, and no followers were 
near, except young Tyldesley, and the j>age. Stern 
was the expression on the countenance of the former ; 
but the latter, though pale, displayed a heroism still 
wilder. And yet his sword had not, throughout the 
battle, been unsheathed, and he had forced a passage 
without giving a wound. 

" Brave page ! " exclaimed the earl. " Still, thou 
oughtest to have used thy sword ; thine arm might 
have sent the blow with power sufficient to wound — 
aye, to kill ! " 

At this moment two of the enemy, who had pur- 
sued the leader of the royalists, rushed on him. 
His horse plunged furiously, and turned himself 
altogether on one of the assailants — thus exposing 
his rider. Instantly that assailant sprung forward 



48 THE BATTLE OF 

with a loud shout of joy; but that shout was ended 
in a dying shriek, as the sword of the page 
passed through his body. The other fell by the 
earl's own hand. For a brief space the page looked 
with something of satisfaction on the blood-stained 
sword. But as a drop fell upon that small hand, a 
shudder passed over his frame, and his eye was fixed, 
with unnatural light, on the spot. 

" It is of a foul colour ! " he exclaimed. " Good 
God ! and have these fair hands been stained with 
human blood? What will Anne Houghton," he 
added in a low tone, " think of me now ? " 

" Nay, nay," hastily replied the earl, " repent not 
the deed at the sight of blood. I thank thee, brave 
youth. But now, what movement is to be made? 
Shall we rush upon Wigan without our followers ? " 

" I '11 defend the church," said the page, "as the 
brave countess defended her home." 

But before Derby had decided — for all that we have 
related took place in a few moments — a cry arose 
from his men in the rear, who, overpowered by 
numbers, could neither fight nor advance. The 
dragoons, headed by Sir Richard Houghton, had so 
surrounded them, that they must either surrender, 
or die to a man. That knight conducted him- 
self most valorously, for, in every enemy who 
approached, he expected to recognize those whose 
perfidy (such he thought it) he burned to revenge. 



WIGAN LANE. 49 

At every attempt of the small band of royalists to 
rally, by shouting " Derby and Tyldesley," he dealt 
his blows more fiercely. Still, the royalists did not 
call for quarter ; and soon, in this awful emergency, 
they heard the voice of Derby cheering them on, as 
he came to their succour. So sudden was the assault, 
and so much impetus was given to it, that the enemy, 
in the terror of the moment, crowded to the hedges, 
over which many of them leapt their horses. But 
Sir Richard Houghton kept his station, at the head 
of a few followers, who remained firm ; when his eye, 
falling upon young Tyldesley, he spurred his horse 
forward, aiming a blow at his enemy. A shriek, at 
that moment arising from the page, arrested his arm. 
" No ! no ! " exclaimed Sir Richard, " it cannot 
be ; and yet, so like in sound ! " Ere he had uttered 
these words, his [arms were gently grasped by the 
page ; but a follower of the knight soon freed him 
from the encumbrance, and the wounded youth fell 
into the arms of Harry Tyldesley, who bore him forth, 
himself fatally wounded. Bloody was the harvest 
which the royalists now began to reap, as they charged 
the fugitives, with impetuous fury. The earl, and 
his brave fellow-leader, Sir Thomas Tyldesley, met, 
having literally cut down, and cut through the inter- 
vening troops of the enemy. Several officers had 
been slain, and Sir Richard Houghton had been 



50 THE BATTLE OF 

carried from the field by his men, faint from wounds. 

" Again ! " was the exclamation of the loyal 
leaders, as they separated to lead their followers 
once more to the work of death. 

Success attended every blow, and many were 
the bodies which they rolled over mounds, and 
charged into the river, entirely routing their array. 
But soon they were vigorously repulsed by Lil- 
bourne's guard, who closely engaged them. After a 
long struggle, the gallant royalists made their way to 
the farthest line of the enemy. " Again ! " was now 
not only the exclamation of the leaders, but likewise 
the war-cry of their men, and they wheeled and 
dashed through the centre of the dragoons. Here 
the scene of battle widened, the enemy had been 
driven from their ranks, and the royalists had left 
theirs to follow them ; and now the fate of the battle 
seemed altogether changed. The combat was almost 
single, and then six were opposed to one. Derby 
was unhorsed a second time, and his brave and faith- 
ful servant, who had, in his youth, followed him 
from France, fell in warding oif some blows from his 
master. Lord Widdrington was pursued by a whole 
rank of dragoons, and slain on the banks of the 
Douglas. In vain did the royalists attempt to rally. 
Their leaders saw that the battle 'was lost. The earl 
had, himself, received many wounds, and was faint 



WIGAN LANE. 51 

from the loss of blood. His sword was heavy for his 
arm, and he could attack with difficulty, since he was 
on foot. He stood, for a moment, bewildered, when 
he heard Sir Thomas Tyldesley, at the head of about 
twenty men, exclaim, " through, or die ! " Instantly 
the brave knight was in the thickest of the engage- 
ment. His plume waved long, and his arm plunged 
furiously. At length he fell, pierced by many 
weapons, but his head lay proudly in death, upon a 
heap of those whom his own hands had slain, forming 
a monument more lasting than that which the grati- 
tude of a follower has erected, on the same spot, to 
the hero's memory. 

Derby now stood alone : — after great exertions he 
could only rally a few men. These persuaded him 
that he could only die, did he choose to remain. He 
perceived then that his death should be in vain, 
that it could not change the fate of that day's battle. 
They mounted him on a horse, and scouring over the 
hedges together, were hotly pursued to Wigan. 

Let us re-visit the field of battle towards sunset of 
the same day. All was then still. The departing 
rays showed the ghastly countenances of the dead, 
crowded together promiscuously, without the distinc- 
tion of roundhead or cavalier. They lay in such 
perfect repose, that Nature seemed to have brought 
them there, ' without the help of man, herself 



52 THE BATTLE OF 

bury them, with her own funeral rites. The breeze 
sighed over them, and occasionally moved some of 
the locks, which had escaped from the helmet, and 
these were thin and silvery with age, or dark and 
clustering with youth. Here and there a venerable 
head lay naked on the ground. Here and there 
young lips were pressed to the cold and bloody sod, 
in the kisses of death. Such a scene, at such an 
hour, when every thought is of quiet peace, and love, 
with such a beautiful sun, shedding a mellow light 
around, might have given rise to a notion entertained 
by the Persians of a former age, that in some se- 
questered spot, near to the gentle flowing of a river, 
the most highly -favoured of our race shall undergo a 
transformation, and for- days lie on the grass, ap- 
parently dead, even with symptoms of bloody violence, 
until the last touch shall have been given to the 
passive clay ; and, amidst the light and music of 
heaven resting there alone, with those of earth, hover- 
ing like dreams about them, they shall rise up pure' 
and lovely spirits, above misery and mortality. 

Leaning upon the arm of a servant, who supported 
with much care, his halting steps, one of the Parlia- 
mentary leaders was now groping his way through 
the slain, and occasionally stooping to examine the 
features. 

It was Sir Eichard Houghton. His countenance 
ha, 



WIGAN LANE. DO 

was pale, bearing traces of anguish within, more than 
of bodily fatigue. The excitement which had sus- 
tained him in the engagement, seemed to be gone. 
Years of sorrow, since then, might have passed over 
him, without producing so great a change. His 
spirit seemed to have been more deeply wounded 
than his body. Long was his search amidst the 
slain. As he stooped, a shade of the deepest anxiety 
was over his face, but the g)pw of his eyes showed 
that he looked for an enemy, and not for a friend ; 
and as he rose disappointed, his lips quivered with 
deadly emotion. 

" Nay, nay, 'tis in vain. They have both escaped 
— uncle and nephew. And I have left my couch, 
wounded and sickly, to come and gloat on my own dis- 
appointment. But they must be found, dead or alive ! " 

" But surety, Sir Richard," interrupted his ser- 
vant, " not to night ; the air is chill." 

" Not for me," muttered the knight, " revenge 
will warm it. I feel not the blast. Is the tempest 
loud ? Why, the night is calm, and still as the d< 
and though it raged as if every sound was the um 
shriek of a thousand demons in pain or joy, I could 
not hear it. No, no, my soul is on fire ; cold ! — cold ! 
— mock me not. If my revenge is not satisfied, I 
shall lie down here, stripped, naked, and shelterless, 
in order that I may be cool." 

f 2 



54 THE BATTLE OF 

" But consider your wounds." 

" Aye !" fiercely answered Sir Richard, — " con- 
sider my wounds ; a daughter lost, deceived, polluted ; 
— my hospitality returned by the foulest treachery. 
Consider these wounds ! aye, and revenge them too ! " 

" But still," returned his follower, " the shades of 
night are fast descending. We cannot remain here 
long." 

No answer was given?, and he perceived his leader 
kneeling over a heap of bodies. The light was 
streaming upon that point. An awful silence ensued, 
when in a tone which seemed the very voice of 
satisfied revenge, Sir Richard exclaimed, " Here is 
the elder villain ! " He held his face close to the 
lifeless body of Sir Thomas Tyldesley. No sound 
escaped him ; but there he gazed, like a mad 
spirit, exulting, yet miserable, that the object of his 
revenge could not open his eyes, and know his fate. 
His face was pressed close to that of the dead, as if 
the unholy embrace was sweet to the very senses, 
and thrilling even through the frame of the aged. 
Hate did not prompt him to trample, with profane 
-foot, upon the unresisting body, or to mar the calm- 
ness reposing on the stiff features, but he even kissed 
the cold lips in ecstacy, and drew the head into his 
bosom. At length he suffered himself to be led away. 
" The young man," after a short silence, he added, 



WIGAN LANE. 55 

" . the young man must be here likewise, and I go not 
before I have seen him." They sought in vain, until 
reaching the banks of the Douglas, they stumbled on 
two bodies, lying at the foot of a tree. They were 
those of young Tyldesley and the page. What a 
shriek of madness was uttered by the knight, as he 
recognized in the page, his own beloved Anne! 
Her breast was naked, and on it lay the head of her 
dead lover, while his arms were encircled around her, 
as if their 'love could never die. Sweet and beautiful 
was the expression of her countenance in death. 
Her dark ringlets were moved by the breeze from the 
river, and richly they waved, under the ! radiant 
moon, gleaming through the foliage. Calm they lay, 
as in the sleep of love, which a single murmur may 
disturb, and affection seemed awaking on their coun- 
tenances, to assure them of each other's safety, and 
then go to rest. Sir Richard's grief, was gradually 
subsiding and ebbing, but only to feel the barren, 
dry waste, over which it had rolled, and the wreck 
which its waves had borne along. Without a word, 
he quietly prepared to sit down on the little mound 
where the head of Anne was reposing. The father 
once more blessed Iris child. Attempting to raise her 
lover's head, and make them divided in death, a 
shudder passed over him, and he again restored it to 
its place, and put the cold, stiff arms, even more 



56 THE BATTLE OF 

closely around Anne, with as much fondness, as if, 
like a heavenly priest, he wished to bind them in 
eternal wedlock. But over such a scene of sadness we 
draw the curtain. Long after, that tree marked out 
the spot where the young lovers died, in each other's 
embrace. It has now, however, entirely disappeared ; 
but if the Chronicler has drawn forth from his 
. readers one tear for their fate, they still have a proud 
monument. 

But softened as was the heart of Sir Richard 
Houghton, by the fate of his daughter, the desire of 
revenge on the Earl of Derby, whom he regarded as 
her destroyer, was now inspired above every feeling, 
and he formed a resolution of immediately returning 
to Wigan, and -searching out the earl, who was 
reported to have found shelter there, after his flight 
from the battle. 

An hour before midnight, the portly landlord of 
the Dog Inn, Wigan, was roused from a comfortable 
sleep, beside the fire, not by the cravings * of thirst 
for the contents of a jug, which he held in his hand, 
as firmly as if it contained the charm of forgetfulness, 
and was the urn from which pleasant dreams vapoured 
out — but by a loud knocking at the door. 

In those days, the inhabitants of the good town 
here mentioned, were not so careful, as they are at 
present, of the digits of their visitors, and had not 



, , 



WIGAN LANE, 57 

substituted brass or iron knockers. Fair ladies, how- 
ever gentle in disposition, were obliged to raise their 
hand in a threatening position, and, horror on 
horrors ! — strike the hard oak. Still the blow was 
generally given with a strength, of which their senti- 
mental successors must feel ashamed, and wonder how 
they could venture upon such a masculine course of 
conduct, degrading the softer sex. What! they will 
exclaim, did the lily hand, which ought for - ever to 
have slept amidst perfumes, unless, when it was raised 
to the lips of a lover, in his vows, profane itself by 
becoming a battering ram ! 

The Dog Inn, at that time, presented a somewhat 
different appearance than it does at present. The part 
of the building in front, next to the street, was low, 
and seemed to be appended, as a wing or covert, 
both to the interior and exterior of the other parts, 
and was parallel to a line of small shops. Behind, 
another story had been added, and there, on a 'trans- 
verse beam, was placed the dog, which the landlord 
had, a few days before, baptized as Jolly, in a good 
can of ale. The Inn was the resort of two classes ; 
the one consisting of those who were regularly 
thirsty of an evening, in reference to wit and news ; 
and the other, of those who could only ask for a 
draught of ale, and then amuse themselves by rubbing 
the bottom of the jug round and round a small cir- 



58 THE BATTLE OE 

cumference, in full view of themselves, after quaffing 
the contents. Their merry host could satisfy the ap- 
petites of both. But he displayed a decided prefer- 
ence for the former class ; and for such, the door of 
admission was the one at the end of the building, 
directly leading to the large fire, which generally 
burned bright and long, in the hall, and it had been 
known to be open long after midnight, to the visitors ; 
while the others had only the honour of the low one 
in front, and that not after nine o'clock. 

The knocking now made, was at the last-mentioned 
door. The landlord awoke, and rubbed his eyes till they 
opened and expanded to their proper focus ; but 
they fell first upon the foaming ale in the tankard, 
which tempted him to a draught. In the act, however, 
the knock was repeated. Still, though his eyes gazed 
in the direction of the door, it was also evident that 
his mouth was not altogether idle in paying due atten- 
tion to the liquor. 

" Ho ! knave ! " exclaimed he, as soon as he had 
obtained liberty of speech — " a warrior and a round- 
head, doubtless ! So thou hast not got a belly-ful of 
fighting in the lane, but must come to my door ! 
Why dost not thee speak, Jolly ? Last week 
John Harrison painted thee alive, and made thee as 
young as thy mother's whelp, put thee upon a beam 
over the door, to bark at those who might come at 



WIG AN LANE. 59 

unseemly hours, or for improper purposes, and hung 
a chain round thy neck, lest thou might be too out- 
rageous. Not one word, Jolly, for thy dear master ? 
But," he added in a whisper, as he went to the door, 
"all's safe!— yes." 

The door opened, and Sir Richard Houghton and 
his servant entered. The latter announced the 
name of his master. 

" So," said the landlord, addressing the knight, as 
he led him to a quiet corner, near the fire, " you are 
the warrior who so nimbly changed parties to day ? 
Perhaps you are desirous of changing occupations 
likewise, and would be glad to throw off your titles 
and dress, for those of an innkeeper. I 'faith, your 
lean face, and what call you these ? " as he pointed to 
the legs of the knight, "would thank you for the 
wisdom of your choice. If so, I am ready for the 
barter. There is my apron. Ho — ho — you'll get a 
complete suit out of it, and a winding sheet into the 
bargain! Be patient, oh! wise knight — who must 
be knight no more — for I shall be Sir John." 

In truth he would have been a worthy successor to 
the knighthood of the famous Falstaff, if any super- 
abundance of wit and fat could ever embody Shakes- 
peare's prototype. 

" Where," exclaimed Sir Richard, in a high passion, 
"where is the Earl of Derby? — surrender him." 



\ 



60 THE BATTLE OF 

" So, so," was the reply, (i you are again disposed 
to return to your allegiance, and be one of the earl's 
party ! " 

" Surrender him into my hands," interrupted the 
knight, in a soothing tone, " and a large reward shall 
be yours. You will then be able to exhibit a golden 
dog on your escutcheon. Refuse, and a strict search 
shall instantly be made, and woe to the wretch, 
who has harboured the traitor ! " 

" Search, brave Dick," rejoined the merry host, 
"and I'll assist you. Here's a bottle ; can the trai- 
tor be within? search, — storm the castle !" and here 
he broke it, while the contents were thrown into the 
knight's face. Is he there, Sir Richard, is he there ? " 

" To ensure our safety and dignity," said the en- 
raged knight to his servant, " give the signal, instant- 
ly." A shrill whistle was made, and a number of 
armed men entered. 

" Search every corner," exclaimed Sir Richard 
" and let the host beware, lest a sword should search 
his person." 

" Search my person ! " rejoined the landlord, while 
he swelled himself out to his fullest dimensions, " Sir 
Richard, could you walk round me in less than twenty 
four hours, and without long rests ? you might as well 
think of searching the continent of America ! Come to 
me, before service on Sunday, when I have donned 



WIG AN LANE. 61 

my great coat, and then search me, or even walk 
around me. 'Twould be, as Cromwell's servants- 
might say, ' a sabbath day's journey.' My good wife 
was just my fellow, and her daily exercise, for some 
years before she died, was to walk round me, and 
brush my coat, and then she went to rest, satisfied 
with a day's hard labour. She was, truly, a help 
meet for me, and we became fatter with looking on 
each other. When indisposed after travelling to the 
ale cellar too frequently, she got me conducted to the 
chair opposite to her own, and she smiled so lustily 
upon me, that I soon recovered. But Sir Rich- 
ard," he added in a solemn tone, "how many gallons 
of oil, shall I bring from the cellar, to light you in 
your search ? ha ! a lucky thought now strikes me. 
Would'st be the better of a quick scented hound ? " 

u Aye," exclaimed some voices, u where is he ? " 
" standing over the door ;" was the reply, " shall I 
bring Jolly ? te if so, it is on the express condition, 
that you nail him up, in time for to-morrow. A 
ladder, friends ; bring me a ladder. But I must keep 
my hands from off his hide — not that he will bite 
— but since he is fresh from the painter, and may be 
pleased, in good humour, to mark me with his wit. 
A ladder!" — and Richard the Third, even assisted 
by the lungs of a modern actor, did not shout forth 
more lustily for " a horse ! a horse ! " 



6£ THE BATTLE OF 

"Begard not the laughing ox," interrupted the 
knight, as he motioned to his men, who stood be- 
wildered at the conduct of the landlord. 

The soldiers commenced their assigned duty, but, 
Sir Richard expecting that, every moment, Derby 
should be apprehended in his presence, kept his seat, 
thinking over the orders to be given, in the event of 
such a discovery. Perhaps feelings of awe, which 
would be awakened by a view of the loyal nobleman, 
like wise, threw their shadows, amidst other emotions 
of a sterner nature. True it is, that he became paler ; 
and the only expression on his features seemed to be 
the most abject despair, and misery. Like an exqui- 
sitely moulded image, when the light has expired which 
gave the animation of life and thought to its coldness, 
no longer shows what, but a moment before, seemed 
its only natural appearance ; so the events through 
which the knight had passed, and which served to 
give a new character of feeling and action, left not a 
shade by which it might be known, that he had been 
an avenger, a few hours ago, and a mourner over 
his last hope. 

Meantime the host of the Inn, continued to annoy 
the men with his wit. In the most serious voice he 
would exclaim "He is here;" when all instantly 
rushed to the place where he pointed. " Tarry but a 
moment till I bring a light — my nose does not shine 



WIGAN LANE. 63 

as a torch to-night." He then procured a light, and, 
as he hurried amongst them, was sure to bring it into 
a disagreeable proximity with some faces, and all that 
the light could fall upon, was a broken pot, into which 
the host peered most anxiously. " Can he be there ? 
I fancy that I should not remain in it long." 

After many similar tricks, he went to a black cup- 
board, at the farther end of a small room adjoining, 
and asked them to inspect it also. " Can the rebel," 
he said, " lurk in the butter?" 

From experience, this they thought to be a suffi- 
cient reason why they should not search there. 

" Unwieldy bull of Bashan ! " exclaimed one 
of the soldiers ; " keep within thine own enclosures 
— a prisoner of hope ! The avenger may be nigh ! " 

" Ha ! ha ! " retorted the landlord, '' where is he ? 
Thankee, friend, for pointing him out. He will, in- 
deed, avenge my thirst ! " and he seized upon a bottle 
of ale, which stood solitary upon a shelf. " The 
rogue's a bachelor, friends ; — he stood alone ; and he is 
so cross, that he may well be called c cut-throat ! ' " 

After an hour's search, towards the end of which 
the landlord had contrived, first to lull his tongue 
asleep, and then himself, the knight commanded the 
soldiers to desist. They awoke the host, who, start- 
ing to his feet, after a difficult balancing of hirr 
looked eagerly around. " 



64 THE BATTLE OF 

" Where is the earl ? " — and as he spoke, he ap- 
proached one of the men, and bringing a light to 
bear rather closely upon the grave countenance of the 
roundhead,—" is this his lordship ? take the rebel from 
my house, and he gave a hearty kick, so far as his 
heart could reach, down to his foot. It was in vain 
to resent the blow, for the humour of mine host 
had altogether disarmed them. 

But we choose to pass over the details of their un- 
success, not being desirous that the mournful remem- 
brance connected with the young and the ill-fated 
characters of the Legend should be obliterated from 
the mind of the reader. 

The tyro in Lancashire history knows well, that in 
that very cupboard to which the landlord pointed, 
the earl was concealed ; and that early in the morn- 
ing he left the Dog Inn, leaving behind him, as a 
small token of gratitude for the shelter he had re- 
ceived, a part of his armour. 

" I cannot wear it," said the jolly landlord, 

when it was presented to him, " though you are a 

warrior, yet, noble early, ou are not a giant. But 

it shall be preserved as none of the least of the 

treats for a traveller at the Dog Inn." The earl 

, shook his humble friend cordially by the hand. 

moiif\L.even then, wit and light repartee had not for- 

^ost. — " Wont shake a paw with Jolly I " 



WIGAN LANE. 65 

Over the earl's countenance, a melancholy smile 
passed, which was unseen by mine host, who was not 
long in resuming, as he stepped over the threshold 
and gazed up at the dog — 

"Well, well, Jolly will excuse you, and wont 
even bark; he's a sensible dog, and knows, or 
ought to know, how long your lordship has been 
confined in the cupboard. So, you are bound for 
Worcester ? Well, for my sake, if you meet Crom- 
well, scratch the ugly wart on his face. But stay, 
earl, for a moment ; there your horse comes, and you 
must take the stirrup cup, from my hands. My wife 
would have been proud to have wiped her mouth for 
a salute, but it is not the fashion of men, towards each 
other," and he ran in, and in a minute returned with 
a glass of wine, which the earl took, and quaffed the 
contents to the luck of the Dog Inn, Wigan. There 
was a serious expression on the landlord's counte- 
nance, not as if it were caused by the present farewell, 
but by some remembrance. "It was at this hour, 
some years ago, that my wife died, and closed her 
eyes upon ale, and a husband. I had broken up the 
best barrel in the cellar, and was raising a jug of it 
to her lips, and I was obliged to drink it myself. — 
But excuse me, farewell Derby." 

We pass over the account of the earl's escape to 
Worcester, and of the literal overthrow of all the hopes 

G 



66 THE BATTLE OF 

of the royalists, by that disastrous battle ; of the earl's 
capture, and subsequent execution; all of which, 
like the rapids of the last act of a tragedy, passed 
with heightened and speedy horror to the bloody end. 

One thing merely we shall notice, that amongst 
the names of those who recommended his lordship to 
be beheaded, was that of Sir Richard Houghton. 

All historians 'and biographers have agreed in 
speaking of that knight as " the rebel son of a very 
loyal and worthy father," — but they have not 
thrown light over the circumstances and events 
which dethroned Charles and all royalists from his 
affections. Tradition gleams upon them with steadi- 
ness and fearful distinctness, and the Chronicler has 
accurately detailed them. 



WIGAN LAXE. 



67 



For the sake, of the Antiquarian, who may be desirous of reading the 
Inscription on the monument which stands in Wigan Lane, the Chronicler 
appends it. In his more youthful days, when passing through Wigan, 
by the assistance of a ladder, and his grandmother's glasses, he obtained a 
transcript of it, which he vouches to be accurate. 




S^ 



An high Act of Gratitude, which conveys the Memory of 

SIR THOMAS TYLDESLEY 

To posterity, 

Who saved Kino Charles the First as Lieutenant-Colonel at Edge-hill Battle, 

After raising Regiments of Horse, Foot, and Dragoons ; 

• And for 

The desperate storming of Burton-upon-Trent, over abridge of 36 arches, 

Received the Honour of Knighthood. 

He afterwards served in all the wars, in great command, 

Was Governor of Lichfield, 

And followed the fortune of the Crown through the Three Kingdoms, 

And never compounded with the Rebels, though" strongly invested ; 

And on the 25th August, A.D. 1651, was here slain, 

Commanding as Major-General under the Earl of Derby, 

To whom the grateful Erector, Alexander Rigbv, Esq., was Cornet 

And when he was High Sheriff of this County, (A.D. 1679,) 

Placed this high obligation on the whole Family of the Tyldksleys. 



THE WITCHES OF FDKNESS. 



In a small recess, still deeper in shade than the 
neighbouring valley where the ruins of Furness 
Abbey lie, there once arose a well-proportioned 
mansion, of which, not a. vestige is left. And yet, 
the wand of no magician had summoned it to appear, 
as a tenant of the retreat, without any materials, and 
then to depart without a wreck, — for much toil, and 
many precious coins had been spent in building and 
adorning it, by the first owners ; and on its decay, as 
much sighing, and as many lamentations, had been 
wasted by their successors. 

Tradition says, that it was erected in the reign of 
Henry the Eighth, by an Enghshman of rank, whose 
name was Morden. Against his earnest entreaties, 
Ms daughter had secluded herself from the world, 
and taken the veil as a nun in Furness Abbey ; but 
when that religious house was broken tip, by royal 



70 THE WITCHES 

act, so much attached was she to the spot of her vows, 
that to gratify her, a family mansion was erected in 
the vicinity. To this, a considerable extent of ground 
was added, as territorial possession. The owner be- 
came enamoured of the pleasant solitude of such an 
abode, and so did all his successors, whose feelings 
were in harmony with the simplicity of the district, 
and the quiet beauties of its scenery. Time destroys 
not the works of God, and the brook which trickled 
beside the porch, still murmured dreams of happiness 
amidst the nightshade which grew on its banks, or 
the lillies, which, in its channel, courted its stream, 
in all their meekness and purity. Bat time destroys 
the works of man, and the noble building, towards 
the end of the sixteenth century, was but a decayed 
wreck of its former self. 

The inmates exhibited a striking contrast to the 
ruined abode. The echoes did not awake to the slow 
step of the aged, but to the bounding tread of the 
young. The wind might rave around in fury, but, 
at intervals, sweet voices were heard, joining in the 
music of the heart. Sombre was the light which 
entered the apartments, but there was no snowy head 
on which it could fall ; shining was every brow, and 
clustering the ringlets waving thereon. On the rudely- 
framed seat, by the porch, no old man sat, like a dial, 
to point out time's flight, but a beautiful pair, with a 
little boy sporting before them. 



OF FURNBSS. 71 

William Morden, and Emily Clifton, were the 
>nly survivors of two noble families. The time of 
our Legend is six years after their marriage, when 
their love had been pledged and crowned by the birth 
of a boy. Sweet was their domestic bliss, but dark- 
ness and death are prepared to enter upon the scene. 
The curse of witchcraft is about to fall upon the holy 
beings, in all its horrors and pollutions. The Chron- 
icler shudders, as tradition leads him to their tragic 
fate, and as it gleams upon the hellish causes. The 
fair creatures have, in many a dream, for many a long 
night, been cradled by his side, in beauty and love. 
Their voices have whispered to him, their faces have 
smiled upon him, in the mysteries of sleep. And yet 
he must now awake them to feel the breath of unearthly 
enmity and power, withering their souls, while ser- 
pents are even twined around their shroud ! 

On a calm evening, towards the beginning of 
summer, Emily was seated in the old hall, expecting 
the arrival of her husband, who had rode out early 
that day, to hunt, when he entered, with marks of 
agitation on his countenance. 

u William ! " she exclaimed, as she arose to em- 
brace him, " thou art sad. It cannot be for want of 
success in the chase; you would not dare" — and 
she gave him a playful blow on the cheek with her 
little hand — "to appear before your wife so sorrowful, 



72 THE WITCHES 

and with no better excuse. But, love, you smile 
not. William, are you wounded ? Have you been 
thrown from your horse ? " 

" No, Emily," was the reply, "lam safe, but my 
horse, in passing the cave of which you are so much 
afraid, sunk down, as if exhausted, though a moment 
before, he seemed capable of the greatest exertion. 
Thus is it," ^e continued, as he yielded to his wife, 
who forced him down to a seat, whilst she leaned 
over him, " our cattle have died, though green is 
the meadow on which they grazed. And now, my 
favourite steed — aye, the very one, Emily, whose 
neck arched so proudly beneath your gentle touch, 
after he had borne me to your abode, where I wooed 
and won you as my bride, is now, I fear, stiffening in 
death. My servant shook his head, as I left Eanger 
to his care." 

" Poor Ranger," interrupted the lady, " he was a 
proud animal, and spurned acquaintance with others 
of his kind. Yet, William, dost thou recollect how 
closely and fondly he trotted by the side of my white 
pony, on the evening you brought me to your home, 
and how the kind animals allowed me to be locked in 
your embrace, although their bridles hung loose ? 
Nay, more, did they not choose a lonely path, with 
the moon shining all sweetly upon it, through the 
hushed forest, as if there ought to be nothing known 



OF FURNESS. 73 

to us, save each other ; and that, orphans as we were, 
with the voices of gone friends, as silent to us as the 
night, still, there was hope shedding its rays over our 
common lot ? Now both of them may be lost. Still 
you could have visited me without your steed, and I 
should, perhaps, have been less coy after your 
fatigues, and," she added, as her fair hands played 
among the curls which shaded her husliand's brow, 
"I could have come hither without my palfrey, 
leaning on your arm, William." 

The sorrowful man could not reject the consolation 
of his beautiful wife. Though unforeseen calamities 
had gathered thickly upon him, as if there was some 
direct cause, separate from the general course of Pro- 
vidence, yet every ch?in of human affection was un- 
broken ; and though his fold was now almost for- 
saken, on his hearth still moved the beings whom he 
loved, and not a household god had been thrown 
down. His little Edward had entered, and was climb- 
ing his knee, and hugging his neck, — and could he 
refuse to be happy ? He had regained a portion of 
his usual gaiety, when his servant entered. 

" Master, Ranger is dead ! I took the bridle from 
off his head, and he could no more shew that he was 
at liberty. There was a strange shriek after he fell 
down. He licked my hands, and his tongue was 
black and swollen." 



74 THE WITCHES 

" Shriek, dost thou say ? " returned his master, 
" I have heard that horses groan when in pain, but 
that they shriek, I cannot believe." 

" It could not be the horse," was the reply, "no — 
no — nor was it a human voice." 

They gazed upon the servant. His tones were low, 
as if from secret terror, and his countenance was deadly 
pale. He continued, " I have heard the shriek before, 
master, when old Margery, who nursed you when a 
boy — died. She raised her hands, drew herself up on 
the pillow — as if escaping from some invisible spirit 
— and sunk down lifeless. The neighbours said, that 
at that moment the witch of the cave passed the 
window, with hurried steps." 

Emily Morden looked upon her husband, and took 
their little boy, and folded him closely in her bosom. 
Not a word was spoken, but many, many thoughts 
were theirs. Their fears seemed to recognize in the 
sweet blue eyes, the calm brow, and the golden locks, 
signs of a dark fate. The little fellow, however, was 
unconscious of their feelings, and darted forth to the 
lawn to pursue the shadows, which were now fast 
settling, and to gambol with his favourite pet lamb. 
Soon fatigued with his sports, he leaned upon the 
tame animal, like a beautiful picture with a pure 
back ground. At that moment an old woman stood 
before him. He saw not her dark and hideous 



OF FUKNESS. 75 

features, more frightful because she attempted to smile : 
he only saw the tempting fruit which she held. He 
heard not the unearthly tones of her voice, he only 
distinguished the words, u Shall I give you it ? " He 
felt not the touch of her withered, bony hands, as he 
received it. He cared not, though these hands were 
placed upon his brow, as he devoured the fruit. He 
clapped his hands, and shouted, "Good, — good 
mamma! give little Edwy more, — more!" Oh! it 
was horrible to see the beautiful boy playing with a 
foul hag, hand in hand, cheek to cheek, and to 
hear him address her, as " kind mamma." The lamb 
had fled far over the glen, at her approach — but the 
boy had even kissed her black and shrivelled lips ! 
He was throwing his arms around her neck, amidst 
the long locks of white hair, which hung like serpents 
over it, when he was dragged away by his mother, 
who had rushed forth with her husband, upon be- 
holding the woman's familiarities. The hand of 
William Morden was raised, in fury, to strike the 
hellish crone, whom he knew to be the witch of the 
cave, when she disappeared to a short distance, where 
her form dilated against the faint light of the sky, and 
then she glared with her blood-red eyes, full upon 
him. She tossed her hands in the air, then ap- 
proached a little nearer, and pointed to Emily, while 
she sung in awful notes — 



\ 



76 THE WITCHES 

Has early summer fruit for man F — 
No, but for spirits : — yet the boy 

Has tasted ! and the mother ran 
Too late ! — too late, to shield her joy- 
Embrace him ! so have I 1 

Ere the sun sinks, from him you'll fly, 

Nor press a couch where he may die ! 

His mouth is sweet ; beware his fangs ! 

Kiss him, he bites in maddest pangs ! 



The still calm all around, allowed every word and 
tone to be distinctly heard. When she had ended, 
she gave a shriek of delight, and slowly proceeded in 
the direction of the cave ; at intervals turning round, 
and raising her arms. All objects around her could 
not be perceived, still those small malicious eyes 
sparkled in the gathering twilight, and her voice 
could be heard muttering. 

" Nay, William, follow her not ! " exclaimed Emily, 
as her husband prepared to pursue the witch. But 
he was now maddened by rage and despair, and he 
started forward, fully resolved to enter the cave, and 
brave its unseen and unknown terrors. 

She anxiously gazed after him, until his form was 
altogether lost in the distance. The many tales to 
which she had listened, of the witch's power and re- 
venge, were unfolded again, and they seemed scrolls 
of the future, written with the fate of herself, and all 



OF FTTRNESS. 77 

that were dear. She led Edward into the hall, 
and soon perceived a marvellous change in the boy. 
At first he was silent, and did not acknowledge the 
attentions of his mother. He then shrieked in terror, 
and laughed in joy, alternately. His features were, 
-at times, absolutely hideous, grinning, as if with 
malice, and then they became more beautiful than; a 
mother's eye ever beheld. 

" Mamma ! mamma ! " he would exclaim, — and he 
looked from his mother upon vacancy — "give Edwy 
more — oh ! it is sweet, sweet. Heed not the man, 
wicked man, who drives you away; — come back to 
Edwy ! " 

At length she succeeded in hushing him to rest^ 
and her thoughts were of her husband. Darkness 
was now over the earth, and she imagined that the 
hag's face was gazing in upon her at the casement, 
but she dared not rise to close it, lest she might dis- 
turb the sleeper. Sometimes, too, another form, seen 
by the moonlight, was there, and the witch dared to 
embrace the husband, in sight of his trembling 
wife ! Hour after hour passed, and the next would 
be midnight, and William had not returned. In vain 
did his faithful servant, whom she had summoned to 
bear her company, suggest that his master might have 
refused to leave the cave, until the woman had read the 
destiny of the family more distinctly. 



78 THE WITCHES 

" Nay, Roger/' she said, " something has befallen 
your master. Oh ! if he should return no more ! " 
and her agony was too deep for tears. 

" My lady, fear not. It is said that all those who 
are bewitched in the cave, have first listened to the 
love confessions of the old woman's daughter, and 
drunk the cup of unearthly beauty. But I will in- 
stantly go to the cave." 

Emily was about to urge him to make all possible 
haste, when he shrieked out, and pointed to her 
breast ; and there her boy was gradually raising up 
his head, like a serpent, to her face, whilst his eyes 
gleamed with the most fiendish expression, and his 
mouth was grinning and distended. For a moment 
she was silent as the dead, and gazed in horror ; but 
she could not trace a touch of kindness on the young 
features. All love and beauty, in a moment, had been 
dashed from them. The boy's eye never moved from 
hers, or changed its emotion; — it was slowly meeting 
hers, in malice. His breath was now close to her 
cheek ! 

" Kiss me, kiss me," were the first words he 
uttered ; but the tones were unknown, and seemed 
those of a young fiend. "With a loud shriek he pre- 
pared to dart upon her face. She started from her 
seat, and threw him on the floor, and there the little 
monster rolled — gnashing his teeth, and tearing with 



OF FURNESS. 79 

his hands, in frantic fury. His eyes were of a glassy 
brightness, and coldness ; and foam was on his little 
black lips. His struggles soon became fainter, and he 
lay motionless, and apparently lifeless. He then re- 
gained his own beauty, but was pale and trembling, 
as if from an infant dream of evil. His eyes were 
raised to his mother, and again they were affectionate, 
as of old. 

" Mamma ! mamma ! " he cried, " take me to your 
arms, cover me up in your bosom ; you wont kill me, 
mamma ? Oh ! leave me not here to die ! " 

There was a mournful upbraiding in the boy's* 
accents, and his mother burst into tears, and rushed 
forward to raise him, when, all at once, he sprang 
from the ground. Again he was changed ; his hair 
stood erect, his mouth was stretched to an unnatural 
width, and he ran to her, howling like a dog. In a 
moment the servant struck him down. Bitterly did 
the mother weep to see her child bleeding on the 
floor, and yet, she dared not touch him. " He is 
possessed ! " she exclaimed, " aye, that is the fate) 
which the witch foretold ! " 

" My lady," said Roger, " pardon me for what I ant 
about to mention. He has been bewitched into a 
disease which must be fatal to himself, and to all 
whom he bites. Your security, and that of my 
master, lies only in his destruction." 



80 THE WITCHES 

" Never ! " was the indignant, but sorrowful reply. 

The boy once more regained his own appearance, 
and called piteovsly for his mother. He put his 
little hands to his mouth, and when he gazed upon 
them, they were all suffused with blood ! He burst 
into tears. 

" Mamma, kiss the blood away from my lips. 
Wipe this love ringlet, or papa wont play with 
it. Oh ! cool my lips. Take the fire out of them. 
Mamma, mamma ! must I die ? Who took me out of 
your bosom, to lie here ? " 

Every word fell, like a child's curse, upon the ear 
of Emily. 

" Oh Roger ! good Roger," implored the lady, — 
" what can be done ? " 

The boy attempted to rise, but his strength seemed 
gone, and his head dashed itself violently upon the floor. 
His mother fell down senseless. Roger rushed from 
the room, to bring water to sprinkle upon her face. 
In a moment he returned, — and there a scene was 
presented to his eyes, which nothing in after-life 
could curtain from his mind. Both lay lifeless. The 
countenance of the mother was mangled and bloody,, 
and her boy's teeth were in her cheek. As soon as 
she had fallen, the boy had crept to her, under the same 
infernal influence as before, and, fortunately, she 
never awoke from insensibility. 



OF FURNESS. 81 

Meanwhile let us leave the dead, and follow the 
living. The reader is not asked to dry Ms tears 
after the mournful spectacle, and put off his sackcloth, 
and don singing rohes and smiles, for soon the curtain 
may be raised from the same scene, to exhibit on the 
same stage, another victim. 

"William Morden, when out of the sight of his wife, 
came in view of the object of his pursuit. Unlike 
the aged, the hag avoided not the many elevations of 
sharp rock, on her path. After passing them, for a 
moment she would linger, and looking back, and 
howling, motion him, with a wild plunge of her arm, 
to follow. The scenery became more bleak and 
desolate, as if nothing in animal or vegetable life 
could flourish near her abode. Not a sound was 
heard ; her steps were hurried, but silent. They 
were approaching the cave, which was formed in the 
old channel of the brook, and which was supposed to 
be the outlet of a subterraneous passage leading from 
the abbey into a deep wood, which skirted and con- 
cealed the bank. Amidst the trees strange lights 
seemed to move, and the witch, by their flash, was 
enabled to expose her malignant and hellish counte- 
nance to the gaze of Morden. She stood still and he 
advanced. From the folds of the cloak in which she was 
wrapped, she drew her hand, and pointed to a deep 
ravine, at a short distance from the cave. She 

ii 



82 THE WITCHES 

muttered some incantations, raised her eyes, as if to 
invisible agents in the air, and exclaimed, " Slaves ! 
ye know my power ! Shew him — shew him what a 
word, escaping from my lips, has done. Now, 
fool ! " and she grasped his hands for a moment, 
" gaze there — and tremble." 

Morden started, as lurid lights gleamed in a mass, 
over him. He stumbled down the declivity, and fell, 
his head striking against his lifeless steed! Un- 
earthly shrieks of laughter saluted him, and as he 
sprung to his feet, the witch, surrounded by flames, 
was waving her arms in fiendish joy. He once 
more found himself on the path close beside her. 
All again was darkness, and now he heard the witch 
enter the cave. He prepared to follow her. The 
entrance was small, and could only admit him by 
crawling through. His face came in contact with 
the jutting rocks, and he imagined that around his 
neck the hag had placed her hands, to strangle him. 
He crept in, but saw nothing. No object could be 
distinguished, until, on a floor far below him, he be- 
held a few embers burning on the hearth, and a 
form walking around, and by its shadow intercepting 
the light. The ground was damp beneath his 
hands, and the very worms were crawling over them, 
and thus early claiming connexion, by twining around 
them the marriage ring of the grave. He knew not 



OF FURNESS. 83 

how to let himself down into the interior. The light 
from the embers, meanwhile, was gradually increas- 
ing ; and at length he recognized the witch rubbing 
her bands over them. Her head was uncovered, 
and her long grey locks were flung back from a brow 
black and wrinkled. He could not remove his eyes 
from her, and every moment he expected that she 
would arise, and curse him with her arts. She 
lighted a taper, and placed it upon a small coffin, and 
sung a death dirge ; at every interval, when she 
paused for breath, making the most unnatural mirth. 
The lid of the coffin slowly arose, as she removed the 
taper, and a beautiful boy raised his face, so pale and 
deadly, over which golden locks curled, like young 
spirits. His sweet blue eyes met those of Morden ; 
•his little hands were pressed together, and his 
lisping voice said, mournfully, — " Father ! " 

Morden sprang down, when, with a wild shriek, 
the witch turned upon him, and attempted to mimic 
the tones in which the fond word " father " had been 
breathed. He prepared to rush upon her, when 
every limb was powerless. He could not move, 
and yet all his senses were intensely active and 
awake. He beheld the coffin again closed, and glad 
now would he have been, could he have returned 
to his home, to assure himself of his child's safety. 
The witch began some awful and unholy rites, as 



84 



THE WITCHES 



she lowered the coffin into a hole dug beside the 
embers, and then over the spot, after her incanta- 
tions had been muttered, sprung up a mossy tomb- 
stone, with this inscription, — 



AGED 

FIVE YEARS. 

1643. 



She kindled another taper, when a larger coffin 
seemed to be placed before her by invisible hands. The 
lid was raised ; and there Morden beheld his Emily, 
as beautiful now, amidst all the horrors of witchery 
and death, as when that face was revealed in the 
moonlight, on their nuptial night, slumbering so 
happily, to gaze upon which he had kept himself 
awake. But soon the features became clouded and 
black; aye, and blood — blood was seen upon them, 
and horrible gashes. 

" Embrace her ! " exclaimed the witch, u embrace 
her. How beautiful ! What a sweet crimson ! Fool ! 
thy wife blushes ! fly to her ! " 

He started forward, and fell upon the coffin, but 



OF FURNESS. 



85 



the lid was closed. A long fit of insensibility was 
over him. Dreams still more revolting than the 
realities he had now beheld, kept him bound. 

He awoke — but far different was the scene. A 
sigh which had been nursed in the dream, now found 
expression, and instantly a movement was heard, in 
a distant part of the cave ; and a female bent over 
him, and perfumed his burning brow. Wild was the 
beauty beaming from her eyes ; but soft and earthly 
was the hand which took his. He gazed silently 
upon her. She seemed scarcely to have entered upon 
girlhood, and yet Morden thought that she never 
could have been younger, and never, for the future, 
could be older. She spoke not ; but her lips uttered 
strange sounds of the most thrilling music. She 
gently raised and led him to a couch, as soft as 
dreams. The air around breathed fragrance, and 
vibrated song. Invisible roses seemed to fall upon 
his brow and hands. So brilliant, and yet shadowy, 
was the light, that he could not gaze far around. 
Light seemed to be a boundary to itself, and no walls 
intercepted the vision. 

(i "Who -art thou ?" was the exclamation of Morden, 
" and where am I ? How have I been brought here ? 
This is not the cave to which I came ; — and where is 
the foul witch who so tormented me with her dark 
spells ? " 



86 THE WITCHES 

" There cometh light after darkness/' replied his 
beautiful companion, " and joy after sorrow. What 
makes the love of one being so pleasant ? Because 
it is nursed amidst the storms of hate. Love cares 
not for a palace; to sit, travel, and sleep, amidst 
gold and diamonds. The tomb is the home where it 
is most beautiful ; and were two mortals, who cling 
to each other, to dwell there, it would be love's 
paradise. As they sat beneath the shade of the 
cypress, how rapturous would their thoughts and 
words be ; and oh ! how true ! At eve, as they 
walked together over graves, how confiding would 
they be ! And at the midnight hour, when the wind 
howled, and ghosts flitted around them, how sweet the 
sleep of the two lovers, with a tomb-stone for their 
pillow ! " 

Each word thrilled through the soul of Morden. 

" Mysterious angel ! " he cried, " tell me thy name 
and abode ! " 

The young being dismissed the melancholy which, 
whilst she spoke, had rested on her countenance, 
and smiled. Her deep blue eyes gazed upon him, 
and, in the intoxication of the moment, he recollected 
not his own inquiry. But soon, thoughts of home 
and Emily, came into his mind, and checked others 
which were rising. He turned away from her, when 
she asked, — 



OF FURNESS. 87 

" Would'st thou see the past ? " 
"Yes/' eagerly returned Morden. "Oh! could 
I once more behold her whom an untimely fate bore 
from me ! " 

She took from the table a golden cup, encircled 
with flowers, and throwing a liquid drop, which 
she had poured out on her hand, away in the dis- 
tance ; instantly, amidst music, with the bass of a 
profound calm, there arose before his eyes a strange 
scene. There were the haunts of his boyhood, the 
bower in the garden, and even the ivy-covered seat, on 
which was the plumed cap his mother's hands had 
made ; the gentle stream, with his book and fishing- 
rod lying on the bank ; and last of all was himself, 
smiling, the actor in each. A pure mist arose before 
rum, as in the bower he was placing the cap over his 
shining curls ; bright eyes gleamed in it, and as it 
vanished, there stood his only sister ! She appeared 
to be the gentler type of himself, and sweet was her 
beauty, though it was the beauty of Genius and Power. 
The mist descended, and hovered over them, as they 
were singing the lays of then- own happiness, and 
shrouded both. It once more rolled away. There 
was seen a mourner, near a rose-scattered grave ! 
The mourner was known to Morden long before he 
raised his features from the earth: — it was himself, 
at the grave of his sister ! 



88 THE WITCHES 

He started up from the couch, and fell at the 
feet of his mysterious companion, exclaiming, — 

n Perpetuate the scene ! Give me boyhood again ; 
give me the lost and the beloved, and I'll adore you, 
— aye, love you ! " 

He arose calmly, after her lips had been pressed 
to his. 

n Drink," was the reply. " Drink from this cup, 
Morden, and death shall not separate the brother 
from the sister. Beautiful she was a month before 
her sudden end, and that month "shall never be en- 
rolled in your existence. Drink, — and the past is 
written over with every drop of this liquid, on the 
tablet of your mind, and on the objects of your 
external senses. Could inanimate things feel its in- 
fluence — and shall not the mind ? Drink ! " and the 
scene again arose, in more thrilling beauty and 
truth. Sweet and long was the draught, and he 
returned the cup, empty. Strange sensations shot 
tlnough his frame, and as strange feelings passed in 
his mind. Emily, in a moment, was forgotten, and 
his arms were around his companion, when a shriek 
was heard, and in place of the fading form of his 
sister, stood the withered Wend of the Cave ! Her 
daughter, (for such the beautiful witch was,) now 
coldly repulsed him, and shrunk from his embrace. 
As soon as he could move his eyes from the hag, he 



OF FURNESS. 89 

tinned round to chide his companion, when he found 
that she had disappeared. A loud laugh was raised 
by the old witch, and he pursued her. Darkness 
fell over the scene, and once more he was near to the 
dying embers. 

"Go home!" exclaimed the hag, — "go home, 
and die there along with your dead wife and child ! 
It is long past midnight. It is, therefore, meet time 
that you should go to sleep with them. Home — 
fool!'' 

Her words droye Morden almost to madness. He 
climbed up to the entrance, and as he left the cave, 
he heard the laugh of the two witches. He rushed 
along the path. He saw not the lurid lights that 
flashed around him, from the dark abode which he 
had left. Terror, shame, and despair, were driving 
their victim to what he considered as a sanctuary 
from evil. He was heedless of his steps, and as he 
stumbled, it but increased his fury ; when he felt 
himself suddenly grasped, and on looking up, recog- 
nized his servant Roger. 

"Is all well, — is all well, Roger, with your 
mistress ? Speak, man, — speak ! " 

The servant hesitated, and then replied, " Yes, 
master ! " 

" Kind, dear Emily ! " exclaimed Morden, " she 
has sent you to search for me. Nay, Eoger, I will 



90 THE WITCHES 

o utstrip you ; and I can delay no longer. — How 
anxious she will be ! Death ! no — no — it was but a 
horrible dream ! Yet, Boger, — am I agitated ? would 
my looks frighten Emily 1 Frighten — oh ! no. Not 
a moment is to be lost/' and he darted forward, and 
soon,, all breathless, reached his abode. He trode up 
the lawn with as heavy a pace as possible, in order 
that suspense might be ended, and that she might 
know of his return, before he appeared. A dim light 
was in the hall when he entered. 



The faithful servant, when he arrived, heard no 
noise, and although he felt keenly for the woes of his 
master, did not venture into the hall before morn- 
ing, — and there was his master lying, with his arms 
around his wife. He spoke to him; — but he spoke 
to the dead ! 

A distant relation laid claim to the dwelling, with 
the land attached to it ; but from the awful scenes in 
the former, which we have related, it became unin- 
habited, and was soon an entire ruin; finally even 
without a wreck. 



I 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 



" Jeremiah, read those directions and intimations 
once more ; they contain no less than a challenge to 
my valour. Trnly his Black Majesty seems to think 
that he can toss abont the ball of earth for his amuse- 
ment; and that there is not a tailor who would 
venture to ( measure him.' Ah ! Nick, give me a 
trial." 

Thus spoke Gideon Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk. 
Unlike the most of his brethren belonging to that 
honourable profession, he could boast of six feet of 
perpendicular matter ; but conceiving that even 
that height was too low a tabernacle for his giant 
soul, he fixed to the one extremity a long red night- 
cap, whilst he made the other move on tiptoe, much 
to the mirth of the quizzing old maids, for which that 
town is noted. He was never seen with that upper 
garment, commonly called a coat ; unless to display 



92 the devil's wall. 

one of fashionable cut, which he had just finished ; 
and the absence of this did not take from Gideon's 
stature. Some conjectured that he knew this ; others 
had seen Mrs. Gideon, at home, arrayed in what, 
evidently, had once been a coat ; and they jocosely 
remarked, that she had altogether monopolized the 
use of her husband's apparel, for now they had seen 
her with the coat, and Gideon himself had confessed 
that she wore the breeches. — He had a vest, but the 
pockets were only visited by his hands ; silver and 
gold they had never weighed ; so that to all intents 
and purposes — the wife wore the vest also. 

Nature, however, had denied him her average 
allowance of breadth and thickness, so much so, 
that in a tour to remarkable places, during the 
honey-moon, having entered a museum in the metro- 
polis, the blushing bride was asked by the keeper, 
what was the price she fixed upon the piece of 
anatomy which she brought. Gideon, did, indeed, 
convince the questioner of his mistake, by a powerful 
and conclusive argument directed against his head : 
still people will suspect, even in the face of ample 
evidence ; and the report had been afloat, that there 
was something altogether strange about him. This 
only served to give a more singular character to the 
tailor, and nothing short of the marvellous in adven- 
ture could win his attention and occupy his thoughts. 



the devil's wall. 93 

Others hinted, that were Mrs. Gideon not to awake 
him so early ; not to rap his knuckles, when at table 
he was stretching forth his hand to help himself; 
nor yet to allow the poker to fall upon his toes and 
corns, when they ventured within a few yards of the 
fire ; not to compel him to perform the necessary 
ablutions on a cold morning, a mile from the house, 
and then allow the sun, the wind, or the frost, to 
dry him ; not to confine him, for bedclothes, to a 
sheet in whiter, and his shirt in summer ; nor yet, 
occasionally, to exercise her hands, and a stick, upon 
his body ; Gideon would soon improve in appearance, 
and, at length, be a rival to the oily priest. But the 
old maids (for Mrs. Gideon had formerly been one of 
the numerous sisterhood residing there) considered 
such hints as morsels of scandal ; — and who can, 
with more propriety, condemn scandal, than old 
maids ? — and if, in the multitude of councillors there 
be safety, their view of the matter, certainly, had 
every assurance of being the correct one — that he 
was killed by too much fondling and love. Ah ! ah ! 
poor Gideon knew better. He had a scar on his face 
that he was proud to shew, for he had received it in 
honourable combat with a barber ; — but he had 
others, below the night-cap, and many all over his 
person, which he was glad ta- conceal ; for these he 
received from his wife ! At first he resisted her 



94 THE devil's wall. 

encroachment upon the rights of man ; but soon his 
noble spirit disdained to contend with a woman. He 
had not lost a dram of courage, and he burned for 
some supernatural achievement. 

His brother Jeremiah was made exactly in the 
antipodean style. He was short and round ; yet, as 
he himself pathetically said, when the doctor, dreading 
apoplexy, had inquired about his diet, " tears were 
his daily food, and misfortunes were the vinegar and 
salt." His eyes, in fact, seemed to have invisible 
onions always around them. It was so when he was a 
babe, and his mother was in the habit of remarking, 
that Jeremiah would not be troubled with water in the 
head, because it would never stay there. When he 
entered upon the profession of a tailor, Gideon had 
serious doubts that he would but bring disgrace on 
it, himself, and all his relations ; for, as he very wisely 
reasoned, "How could he use the goose? — however 
hot it was, in a moment his tears would cool it. And 
as for his needles — a hundred would become rusty in- 
a day." However, Jeremiah passed his apprentice- 
ship with distinction, and became a partner in his 
brother's shop ; where we introduce them, squatted on 
a large table, to our - readers, at the moment that 
Gideon had finished the sentence which opens the 
Legend. 

Jeremiah had in his hand, an old and tattered 



the devil's wall. 95 

book, which seemed to have been read by the feet, 
and not the eyes. He raised his eyes from it, as his 
brother spoke, and poured forth a fresh flood of tears. 
" Ah ! brother," he said, " you'll still be after what 
leads to your destruction. I warned you against 
marriage. On the night previous, did I not strike 
you sharply on the ankle, and then upon the head, 
and ask you how you could endure to have it re- 
peated a hundred times, in the whole multiplication 
table of your life. And now," here tears impeded 
his words, " can I not read about Satan's tricks with- 
out your wishing — " 

" Resolving you mean ; nay, Jeremiah, call it re- 
solving to ficrJit him. I'm sure that he's in Ormskirk. 
Yesterday morning, when I came from washing my- 
self, I traced in the snow a strange hoof to this very 
door. There never was such a nunnery of old 
maids, in which he was not found wooing them. 
J3ut — but I'll make a goose of him — I will ! " con- 
cluded the magnanimous tailor. 

" A goose ! a goose ! " exclaimed the simple Jere- 
miah, in horror, "he'll burn our hands, and the 
cloth. I cannot use him for a goose. Oh ! brother, 
only say that you will not make him either a needle 
or a goose, and I'll read the words over again." 

" Well, well," returned Gideon, a little pacified, 
as well as elated, by the thought that there was one 



96 the devil's wall. 

who really did think that lie was able to turn the 
devil into a goose, " sweep away your tears. You'll 
find the table cloth near you. Use the dirty corner 
twice, and Nelly wont need to wash it." 

Jeremiah followed his brother's directions, care- 
fully passed the cloth over his face, and once more 
fixed his eyes upon the book. Gideon laid aside a pair 
of gaiters, which he was making for the comfort of 
his wife. The winter was severe — -and the doctor, it 
seems, had said at the house of some wealthy person 
that there would be a great mortality that season, 
should females not keep their feet properly warm, 
and the report had spread through all the town, and 
had been pretty well circulated, both by the tailors and 
shoemakers. In fact, shoes and gaiters had been ex- 
hibited under the imposing titles of life-preservers. 
Towards evening the sexton had been known to look 
suspiciously upon them, and even openly to condemn 
the traffic ; but the articles were still in great demand. 

Mrs. Gideon's gaiters being, as we have said, 
thrown aside, the tailor settled himself into the posture 
which was most becoming the spirit of the reply, 
which he intended to make to the proposition now to 
be propounded, and Jeremiah commenced reading — 

i( About midnight, let him go out into a wood, 
wherein there be divers kinds of trees ; let him stand 
behind a yew, and clapping his hands together, cry out, 



the devil's wall. 97 

come here, James, (such being the endearing name 
by which he is known to his friends,) come here. He 
shall then perceive a whisper from the top of the 
tree. Let him instantly draw around him a magic 
circle, with the forefinger of his right hand, lest 
his devilship, being angry, pettish, or mischievous, 
may enter unawares, and suffocate him with his 
breath. He must next name the conditions, upon 
the fulfilment of which, he surrenders himself as a 
slave, then and for ever. He may ask any thing, 
and his master is bound to perform it, or break the 
league, and allow his hoof to be scratched with six 
pins or needles." 

" I have it ! " exclaimed Gideon, " the agreement 
shall be made this very night," and he looked terrible 
things to a portrait of Apollyon, which he had torn 
out of " Pilgrim's Progress," and plastered over the 
mantel-piece. 

But not contented with this manner of defiance, 
he sprung upon his toes, hastily drew a needle from 
his waistcoat, and pinked the enemy through and 
through the breast, in spite of scales and hellish 
armour. Jeremiah, upon this, could not refrain from 
weeping, and cried out, "poor dragon! poor dragon ! " 

" Poor dragon ! Poor, indeed ! " returned the 
doughty conqueror. " But see, how fierce he looks ! 

i 



98 the devil's wall. 

The longer I strike, his eyes become larger, and 
expand with rage." 

When this announcement was made, Jeremiah 
quickly drew a circle around him. This caution was 
unnecessary ; for Gideon, seizing the picture, threw 
it to the door, which Mrs. Chiselwig, at that moment 
opening, received it full in her face. With a loud 
shout, the enraged wife flew at her husband — we 
cannot say like a dove to its mate. Xelly had a sin- 
gular fancy and propensity for squinting ; and her 
visual organs seemed always, as if chiding nature for 
the place which she had given them to occupy, and 
were just upon the eve of taking their departure to 
some back settlements on the head, as sentinels to 
guard a large neck-covering, which she wore with 
some degree of pride. Jeremiah, who had a mix- 
ture of shrewdness with all his simplicity, had long 
been of opinion, after careful observation, comparison, 
and induction of facts, that squinting was the property 
of old maids, and very philosophically, as well as 
categorically, gave the following reasons. First — 
since they always look back upon age, and, in their 
own calculations, never become older, but sometimes 
younger ; why should not their eyes be in the pos- 
terior of their head? Secondlv — female eves ousrht 
always to be in front, when their lips are in danger of 
being saluted ; but as old maids are not exposed to 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 99 

this danger, such a situation is not necessary. But 
be this as it may. there could be no doubt of the fact, 
that Mrs. Gideon Chiselwig iid squint, and viewed 
every thing at right angles. Perhaps she wished to 
avoid the labour of her eyes travelling over a large 
nose. Still, squinting as she did, she took a tolerably 
correct aim at the shoulders of her spouse. In vain 
did he look pale, in vain did he attempt to kiss her, 
and excuse the deed, by affirming that it was purely 
accidental : all these circumstances did not stay the 
uplifted hand, or take a^ay a grain from its weight. 
She had frequently complained of being very delicate, 
and when the doctor had been called in to feel her 
pulse with his finger, poor Gideon wished that he 
could only feel her fist with his head, as he must then 
have come to a very different conclusion. She could 
faint, go vulgarly into hysterics, look as pale as a 
drooping lily, and speak of consumption : — ah ! 
Gideon knew that she could likewise strike hard. It 
was not the mere **' esro," tripping on his tongue, 
"_::_ said 5 : : every rib, every bone, every member 
told the same tale. On this occasion, Xeily did n - 
abate any of her strength. 

"Angel of my life I n Gideon cried out, "desist] 
oh! Nelly desist! 43 

'• Y:v. treat me as an angel, eh. ? Doff your night- 
cap then, in an angel's presence, and make your lowest 
bow of reverence." 

LrfC. 



100 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

Gideon silently obeyed, and very soon had Ms 
head scratched to his wife's content. We omitted to 
mention that Nelly's figure rather came nnder the 
definition of dumpy ; so that had Gideon only been 
able to read the classics, and to know that the face 
of man was made to look towards the sides, or , the 
ceilings she could not, without the labour of mount- 
ing a high stool, have reached him, so as to inflict 
capital punishment. 

Meanwhile, Jeremiah's eyes were moist enough. 
We have our suspicion that a wave of Mrs. Chiselwig's 
hand deposited a few tears there. Still, as this phe- 
nomenon was by no means unusual, the Chronicler 
leaves the point without any further investigation. 

After "wholesome severities" had been admin- 
istered to Gideon by his wife, she dragged him to a 
seat beside the fire, where she also seated herself, and 
began to examine the evidence of an exculpatory 
nature, which the offender had to produce ; and to 
the furtherance of the ends of justice, called his 
brother to be jury in the case. Jeremiah, in his own 
mind, had some doubts as to the equity of this course 
of proceeding : but he was too wise to allow any 
private opinion of his to contradict the wish of the 
judge. He thought, too, that his brother's heroism 
was much too pure and exalted, since it led him to be 
passively submissive to the treatment of his wife, lest 



THE DEVIL'S WALE. 101 

he might use his weapons ingloriously, when their 
edge was to be turned against Satan ; and as he rose 
from, the table to occupy the jury-box, he was almost 
tempted to tell both parties that he would be their 
mutual second, in a fair combat, and then strength 
would be both jury and judge, and fists would pro- 
nounce guilty or not guilty, and register the doom or 
acquittal accordingly. But Jeremiah shewed his 
prudence by being silent. Mrs. Chiselwig motioned 
him to his seat, when her eyes fell upon the gaiters, 
lying unfinished on the floor. 

"So," she began, "you thought I should not re- 
quire gaiters after you had killed me, and had resolved 
to be thrifty, that you might tempt some other person 
to be your wife ? " 

Gideon, in reply, raised his eyes. We have some 
doubt as to whether this movement was expressive 
of his calling Heaven to witness that he was innocent 
of any such design ; or of his chiding Heaven, for not 
having brought accidents to such a desirable issue. 

Mrs. Gideon's head began to incline a little to h%r 
left hand, which was opened to support it; her 
breast was heaving against her right hand ; her eyes 
were rolling in an interesting lack-lustre ; and her 
face, with the exception of the nose, was pale. These 
were symptoms of hysterics. She seemed about to 
fall from her seat, and Gideon once thought of helping 



102 

her to her wish, by removing the chair from 
under her, but when he thought over the matter 
twice, the idea was abandoned, for Nelly had been 
known to recover in a wondrously short time, from 
her fainting fits. On this occasion she contented her- 
self with bursting into tears. 

" Oh ! cruel brute, to be yoked to such a delicate 
little heart! Why did I leave the holy state of 
single life. I might now have been seated, eating 
gingerbread as I was when the wretch came with his 
proposals ! " 

Gideon gave a sigh, and thought that even 
Ormskirk gingerbread should not tempt him, were he 
free, to bear her company. 

Mrs. Chiselwig continued, — 

" Was not my shop the most frequented of any 
in the town ? Those who could not pay to eat 
the gingerbread, stood gazing upon it at the win- 
dow, and feasted their eyes; those who were my 
friends, were allowed to smell it; and those who 
ate it, thought that they would never die. Where 
was the true lover that did not regularly, when about 
to visit his sweetheart, buy a little of Nelly's cake, 
in order that he might have an agreeable and pleasant 
breath?" 

" And did not your own true love," interrupted 
Gideon in an appeal overflowing with tenderness, 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 103 

" pay your shop many of such periodical visits, and 
did he not, in the slyness of the feeling, pretend that 
he was about to visit such and such a damsel, and 
then, after swallowing a cake or two, delicately and 
timidly ask pardon for the liberty he was about to 
take, in wishing you to decide, by allowing him a 
salute on your own sweet lips, whether his breath 
was made agreeable enough ? Oh ! Nelly, have you 
altogether forgot those days ? " 

At this moment, when he was pursuing his re- 
miniscences, he came upon one which he passed over 
in silence. In " those days " to which he referred, 
he had his suspicions that Nelly's decision was not 
quite disinterested, for after one salute, and frequently 
two salutes, she was of opinion that Gideon's breath 
was not sufficiently flavoured to make it pleasant, and, 
of course, he was under the necessity of purchasing a 
few more cakes of gingerbread. Then, however, 
these suspicions were counterbalanced by others, 
which whispered, that instead of wishing him to spend 
his money, she was only anxious that he should spend 
his kisses. Woman is said to be fickle and change- 
able: but some hold that man, after marriage, 
changes his opinion much more than woman, ad- 
ducing as a proof, the existence of angels on earth in 
female form, to which every unmarried man swears a 
hundred times, but which no married man believes. 



104 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

Gideon, accordingly, was not exactly of the same 
opinion, in reference to Nelly's motive for the course 
of conduct described, and he recollected many a squint 
in the direction of his pocket, confirmatory of the 
change. This one reminiscence, we have said, Gideon 
omitted to suggest to Mrs. Chiselwig, and was about 
to wander over others which might tend to warm her 
towards him, when Jeremiah waved him to silence, 
and began, — 

" And, madam, you surely have not yet forgot how 
many times I entered the shop, and made some 
purchases ? " 

"No," sharply returned Mrs. Chiselwig, "twelve 
times, and out of these, five times you left the shop 
without leaving your money. One of my reasons for 
marrying the fool, your brother, was, that I might not 
•lose your account. But, Jeremiah, finish my gaiters, and 
you shall be quit for the interest due to me. So, Mr. 
Chiselwig, you thought that I would never use them, 
but I shall outlive you, and obtain another husband." 

Jeremiah moved uncomfortably on his seat, but re- 
solved in his own mind, that he would never be that 
husband. 

" Another husband ! " continued Nelly, after think- 
ing over her last words, " no, no. Why did I leave 
the virgin state ? — oh ! why — why ? " 

Gideon listened eagerly, expecting to hear her 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 105 

assign a reason, the "why," and the "wherefore," 
for when he asked himself the same question, he could 
invent no answer. 

" I was a fool — a fool," she concluded. 

Her spouse thought that the same answer would 
do for him likewise, and that marriage had coupled 
them in folly. Mrs. Chiselwig then left the room to 
retreat to bed, warning Gideon against making his 
appearance there before morning. 

The two brothers drew closer to each other, and, 
in a short time, our hero was " himself again," and 
spoke of undertaking an adventure with Satan that 
very night. And the first question to be settled 
was, what should Gideon's apparel be? Some phi- 
losophers, perhaps, will say, that in strict logical 
arrangement, this ought not to have been the first 
question, and that the time and place had prior 
claims upon their notice. But, let it be remembered, 
that the hero was a tailor. — Jeremiah was decidedly 
of opinion that Gideon should not take a coat. " The 
book," he argued, " gives directions that a circle 
be drawn round your person. Now, should the 
slightest movement on your part be made, the skirts 
of the coat might fly over the circle, and the enemy 
might seize them, and thus draw you from your 
strong hold of safety, and carry you away." 



106 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

It was, therefore agreed upon. nan. con. that Gideon 
should not take a coat. 

'• And as for the night cap/' resumed the same 
subtle reasoner, " since it is of a red colour, it may 
remind him of the hot place which he has left, and 
then setting him to shiver and tremble, mav ?ive vou, 
his opponent, some advantage." 

This, likewise, was carried unanimously. 

The next series of questions was concerning the 
place. The book had mentioned a wood, and luckily 
it occurred to the remembrance of Gideon, that there 
was a dark wood, at a short distance from Ormskirk. 
But then, all the trees were of fir, and it was dis- 
tinctly stated, that the challenger should stand behind 
a yew. Here seemed to be an insuperable objection. 

By agreement they divided themselves into two 
committees, to deliberate upon the matter ; and they 
placed themselves at opposite sides of the fire, and 
hid their faces in their hands, lest the other might 
know of their opinion. Once, indeed, they had started 
from their posture, as they imagined that they heard 
Nellv's foot on the staircase, but as she did not make 
her appearance, it was resumed : and certainly the 
expression of their countenance at that moment would 
not have discovered any opinion about the question in 
consideration. At length Gideon started from his 
seat. 



-..ii 102 



"I have it ! 5? he exclaimed, rabbin: iis brow and 
scratching Ms head, * c y e s :_ inn Low aids die 
:iniisi:i :: ii iis: :v_ i in rzir, :iii -.is in: :n 
yew was a tyj - : n iii. He said that it was black, 

ni :: — : « inii: i: ni~ in in in :'„-~:l i. ni 
s: iii ini Tin ii m:ii — " 

x: : i. : : : i niciii] :n .- . : n n ni i. ni 
— "ir: :i:ii:i:isr. I f-f-11 isiiip :-ver in: in: 

•• Tim If snii." ::nii:ii iisn. •• in: if in 
vf is in miisn :: :n inii :: ii mi. s: the 
ivttiss. :m: i in rm_s: i n. 11:11 ~n mi: 

r.i~ :i msmm is 11 in:. in ;: 1:1 
:: 7: in nin i^ :~ _ :n 1 ni: n:_ . irmm. 
ni in :~:is is. :ls::i:n. in 111 1:1 ni , 
In is nm 1 mriss in ■ in 1:11 : * "" 

"X:. 1." ~ .is in ?ns— ir. • :11m inn ::r 
irii. ni i "ni imi ni Sim m im 1: ::- 
iii.i, nils ii ii 1 ini, :; :n niii: n:i- 
n: r: ::s." 

Sni Giini iii n: iii in i: isi. ni sm: 11- 
comfortable thoughts were evidently clondiiig his 
brow, at least that part of it which the nightcap left 
uncovered. 

• v l: vii -Niiy ::m i:~n. ni iii in: i m :n 
she would leave me to cool aU night, on die wrong 
side of die door. But covered with glory, from 
iniin un:nnn:i ::ni si: ::sis: n: * — ni 



108 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

elated with tlie idea, lie looked a few inches taller, 
and braver by as many; strode with a martial air 
twice across the room, and then strode out. Jeremiah 
was not fond of adventures : and the truth was, that 
he had not asked where his brother was going for the 
cypress, lest he should have been answered by 
another question, " would he not accompany him ? " 
He himself confessed that he was rather of a sedentary 
disposition, and must, therefore, have declined to 
leave his chair. 

Meanwhile Gideon was threading his way to the 
churchyard, which was at a little distance. The 
priest, it seems, had said, that should any of his 
hearers have the curiosity to see a cypress, he would, 
when the service was over, shew them one. A few 
had remained behind : of whom, some not being 
Very excellent herbists, had expected to find winter 
apples there ; because, as they reasoned, the tree 
was an emblem of death, and the eating of an apple 
had brought death into the world. Gideon was not 
of this class. He was forced to remain behind, 
because Mrs. Chiselwig had strictly enjoined him 
never to be nearer her on then* way home, than a 
hundred yards ; so that he received the benefit of 
the priest's illustration, and knew exactly the situa- 
tion of the cypress. He entered the churchyard, 
found the spot, and then ascertained that he had 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 109 

forgot a digging spade. It was dim twilight, but the 
snow on the ground made objects, otherwise invisible, 
to be seen, and the tailor recognized a form approach- 
ing. He at once concluded that it was the enemy, 
and took his station, as directed, behind the cypress. 
He heard a deep groan, and then a shriek. Nothing 
terrified, Gideon called out, in a ferocious tone, 
" Come, James, come," when he received an answer, 
" Oh ! heaven, save my wits, and my body. Shall 
I come .? No, no ; and yet I cannot run. Some- 
thing holds me fast." 

Gideon was astonishe d. The enemy had, in his hear- 
ing, breathed a prayer; — not a pater-noster, indeed, 
but still a prayer. Soon, however, his astonishment 
gave way to his rage, that he would not come. 
" Fiend ! coward ! " Gideon cried out, when he in- 
stantly heard retreating steps. He pursued in the 
direction of the sounds, and came up to a form crouch- 
ing behind a tombstone ! The tailor was collared in 
a moment, and struck to the ground. 

" You are the fiend or ghost who terrified me. I 
took thee for. the spirit of the strange gentleman, over 
whose grave the cypress is planted. Ha ! take that, 
and that," and as he spoke he made a few presents to 
Gideon, which seemed very like blows. " Where 
are your confounded life-preservers now ? Are they 
upon you ? " and he struck the tailor's shins, who., 



110 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

looking up, beheld James Dennis, the sexton of Orms- 
kirk. We have hinted already that the members of 
these two useful professions, during the winter, were not 
very amicably disposed towards each other. After 
Gideon had got upon his legs, the sexton resumed, — 

" You have tried to rob me of my trade, and I have 
half a mind to make you atone for it, by putting you 
into a grave which I have just dug." 

u Not to night," interrupted Gideon. " I have a 
work before me, to be performed, and I shall not be 
buried happily till it be accomplished. Not to night, 
good sir, for I fight the devil ! " 

A fit of shivering came over his companion, who 
was very superstitious; and it is no comfortable 
word, that same devil, to be heard with an atmosphere 
of darkness, and in a churchyard. 

" Oh ! oh ! " groaned the sexton, " mention it not. 
The snow falls heavily, and I often fancy that such is 
the garb of light, which we are told he sometimes 
assumes." 

" Hast thou, friend," inquired Gideon, " seen the 
track of his steps here lately? Snow shews them 
rarely. Here they are — " 

" For goodness sake, do not mention the subject," 
interrupted the sexton, as he trembled anew. The 
tailor, however, explained all his warlike intentions 
to him : stated for what he had come to the church- 



vard : { 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. Ill 



yard : and finally, received the assistance of the grave 
spade, to uproot the sickly cypress. He left the spot, 
bearing it on his shoulders, and the hero of the 
Ene'id did not stalk with a prouder air, as he raised 
the heavenly shield which his goddess-mother had 
induced Vulcan to forge for him, than did Gideon 
Chiselwig, tailor, in Ormskirk. 

The snow continued to fall heavily, and the wind 
drifted it about in fury, when, a little before midnight, 
the two tailors (for Jeremiah, from fear of Mrs. 
Chiselwig's wrath, had thought it best to accompany 
his brother) were moving in the direction of the 
RoughWood, situated at a short distance from the town. 
The priest, it will be recollected, had termed the 
cypress black; but it had now changed colours, and 
was white enough. Gideon's nightcap was still red, 
for, at his request, Jeremiah took it from the head 
repeatedly, and dashed the snow from it, lest it 
should lose any of its power, to call up some rather 
unpleasant sensations in the mind of Satan. Many 
were the misfortunes which befel them on the way ; 
now wandering from their course, and now stumbling 
into a deep wreath of snow. 

" Gideon's courage, however, was not to dissolve 
thereby, and wearied as he was, by carrying the 
cypress, and dragging Jeremiah, he still persevered, 
and at length reached the entrance of the wood. 



112 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

They passed on to a convenient station, Jeremiah 
starting when large flakes of snow fell upon his face, 
from the trees. 

"No more, no more," said Gideon, making a halt 
near to some overgrown firs, and his voice sounded so 
hollow, even to himself, that he almost began to be 
frightened. " Here is the scene of the horrible en- 
chantment ; Jeremiah, brush my nightcap, whilst I 
elevate the cypress on that huge branch." 

" Aye, aye, brother, raise it high. The book said 
that he would appear at the top ; do not allow him to 
come too near, for I never relished sulphur much." 

When all things were in readiness, the nightcap 
adjusted, and the cypress fixed, the brave knight of 
the needle, in a firm voice, cried out, — 

e< Come, James, come ! " 

A flash of lightning gleamed over their heads, 
and a voice, by no means musical, though merrily 
attuned, amidst hollow laughter, said, — 

"Here, Gideon, here." 

As soon as a circle of safe diameter had been 
described by their fingers, they looked up. There 
Jeremiah was fated to behold eyes of a much 
deeper red than his own, peering down ; moreover 
with a less mournful expression. He fell, but had 
the good sense to fall within the magic circle, and 
there he groaned. Gideon was thus left alone to 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 113 

brave the infernal terrors ; and whatsoever some may 
say respecting Beelzebub, certainly on this occasion, 
he did not appear the handsome and well-favoured 
gentleman, equipped in boots, shining so beautifully, 
that everything is reflected, except his hoofs, — and 
perfumed with spices and ointments, to suppress the 
strong effluvial sulphur of his person. Nor was he the 
noble fiend of Milton, shorn of his glory, as the sun 
in a partial eclipse : for we presume that his devilship 
has the right of proving the simile false at the hour of 
midnight. Accordingly, horrible sights were Gideon's, 
and they were ever varying. Now the enemy assumed 
some strange mixture of forms, — rolling heads, con- 
torted legs, and swinging tail : but before a concep- 
tion could be formed in the tailor's mind of what they 
were, he was altogether changed. Light, darkness, 
and smoke, were around him. The cypress leaves 
rustled to the movement of his hoofs. Saucer eyes, 

in the edo-es of which there lurked such a malicious 

o 

wink and twinkle ; a mouth, occasionally, when it 
could be seen, as wide and black as the pit whence 
he came, in which hung a tongue, bright and lurid 
with a serpent's poison, breathing out thence visibly 
a blue air ; naked limbs, around which a green light 
flickered, shewing neither skin, muscle, nor bone, 
but an indescribable substance : large black hoofs, 
hanging from small ancles; all these parts changed, 

K 



114 THE DEVIL'S WALX. 

and poor Gideon stared, perfectly bewildered at the 
proportions of his opponent. He soon, however, re- 
gained his wonted composure, and broke the silence, — 

•*" Nay, enemy of man, think not thus to confound 
me, with your childish tricks. Be a man, Nicholas, 
and not a fool." In a moment around the circle 
which had been made, a blue name flashed. The 
devil danced on the outside, with the cypress for his 
stilts. His face was concealed, and he now wore the 
garb of a scrivener, with paper and pens stuck in his 
belt. He leapt to the ground, and there he stood, of 
small stature, but twisting and pliable. 

'* Gideon Cliiselwicr " said the learned clerk, " vou 
brave earth-clod. I am an antiquarian in my 
small way, and should be glad of your autograph on 
this parchment. In my desk at home, I have the 
names of great warriors, statesmen, and poets, 
but am yet denied the honour of that of a tailor. 
Mine is a rare and a valuable museum. Friend, be 
so kind as to write me ' Gideon Chiselwig ' here, in 
this corner. Now," — and he unfolded a long roll, 
and held it out to Gideon. " Nay, nay, your hands 
are stiff and cold, with the blowing of this storm ; 
i>. r me a shake, and I'll warm them. Tush ! 
Gideon a coward ? Then write me your initial-." 

" I came not here." solemnly returned the tailor, 
" to sport, but to fight with you. Prepare for combat, 
■or write on the parchment, a coward/' 



115 

* What ! fight without a challenge ? Here are the 
articles ; write your name, and then I must gird my- 
self for battle. Come, the night is cold — cold — and 
I shiver." 

*'•' That will be a change, friend, I guess," inter- 
rupted Jeremiah, who now venturing to raise his 
head, saw nothing formidable in the enemy, li I 
warrant thee, that some of your associates are not 
shivering at present. I suppose that during summer, 
there is not much rain in your country, and during 
winter not much frost or snow." 

Xo reply was made to the polite address of Jere- 
miah, but the clerk had already placed the pen in the 
hand of Gideon. 

" Where is the ink ? " 

" In your veins ; prick them with a needle, or be 
a coward. Blood is the challenge to deadly combat." 

w Do all other inks freeze in your country?" again 
inquired Jeremiah, and again he received no answer. 

Gideon did as he was directed, and wrote 
his name on the parchment. He observed that the 
blood dried as soon as it fell from the pen, and became 
indelible. 

" Pool ! fool ! " exclaimed the fiend, with a loud 
shriek of joy^ u thou art for ever lost. This is a con- 
tract that you will be my servant in hell. Two con- 
ditions are granted to you ; or, rather, two deeds to 



116 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

which you may command me. Next night we meet 
again, and when morning comes, you are mine. Live 
a pleasant day to morrow. Ask two things, and here 
I have pledged to grant them, or you are free. The 
parchment may not be wiped, and cannot be torn ! " 

This was spoken in a tone so fiendish and exulting, 
that Gideon's heart failed him. He now knew that 
he was altogether in the power of the enemy, with 
only one day to live ; and then a horrible departure 
from this world ; and in the next world such a re- 
volting service in which he was to be employed. He 
bent down on his knees, and clasping his hands in 
extreme agony and terror, looked imploringly upon 
the fiend, and cried out — 

" Oh ! spare me ! I can be of no use to you." 
" More," was the reply, " than you are to any one 
on earth. Ah! Gideon, you'll make a good member 
of society there." 

" Nay, nay," returned Gideon, " I may lie in a 
hot and black corner of the pit, like an old woman by 
the fire, who cannot move about. I shall do nothing 
but retch, and cry for water. I could not go on 
any errand of yours — could not whisper mischief in 
any person's ear. You might torment me, but I 
should be utterly unable to serve you. Oh ! spare 



me 



! " 



Spare him," began Jeremiah with averted face. 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 117 

" Had he been a ruffian, he would have been of 
essential service in any vacant situation. But, sir, 
and I speak with great respect, Gideon would be the 
laziest footman in your employ. He could not travel 
from your place to Ormskirk in less than a life-time. 
And then he would have forgot your messages, and 
lost your letters, unless they were put in his nightcap, 
and that, you know well, could not hold as many as 
you require. Gideon Chiselwig an imp of darkness ! 
why a little infant could cheat him of an apple ! 
Perhaps he would then be fonder of a snow ball. 
Ah ! he is too simple to be a man, and how could he 
be a devil I " 

The fiend laughed, and pointing to the name on the 
parchment, written with blood, bade Gideon recollect 
that he was his property, by contract and consent. 

" Oh ! " once more ejaculated Gideon, " spare me ! 
What ! must I leave — " 

" Xelly, you mean 1 Fear not. I shall bring her 
to you in good time. The separation cannot be long." 

" Oh ! " resumed the tailor, " must I die, — have my 
brains dashed out against the wall, as your victims 
generally are treated ? " 

" No, no, Gideon, they shall even then be covered 
with your nightcap — " 

" To leave my profession, to — " 

"No, no," was the reply, "you shall then make 



118 THE 

my pantaloons of many colours. My "wages are 

but I dare not quote from that Book. — You under- 
stand me, Gideon. You need not shriek : spate your 
lungs, as they will have exercise enough, and yet they 
will not require sewing and mending. They must 
last as long as your service, and that is for ever. I 
shall never dismiss you for bad conduct, Gideon. 
Eternity is the term of the engagement between us. 
Oh! eternity!" — and here all the farce and panto- 
mime vanished, as his form changed into one of lofty 
power, and his voice thrilled with eloquence from the 
remembrance, and the still more intense anticipation 
of endless woe. " Oh ! Eternity, how vast thou art. 
No shore, a boundless sea ! No bank, nor yet a 
little island, on which the lost can alight, and, for a 
moment, quit the gulf, and shake off their pain. The 
scroll of fate is placed in the hand, written with woe : 
long and long may it unfold itself, but the last roll 
never comes. Oh ! Eternity ! thou hast no resting 
place for the bright foot of Hope: — yes," and here 
Satan assumed the same appearance as before, 
" Gideon, our engagement expires only with eternity : 
you shall board with me, and have enough of food — 
not much ale or water, however, but a great supply 
of fuel, and that gratis. But before I depart, name 
two requests which you may wish me to fulfil. 
Would you enjoy power or beauty ? They shall be 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 119 

granted, and the poor tailor may sit on a throne, or at 
the side of a beautiful empress. Amidst all, think of 
the coming night, when your appetite is about to pall, 
and how will it be whetted ! — Name two requests." 

Jeremiah started up, so sudden was the advent of 
the idea in his mind, and no longer miserable, think- 
ing that Gideon would now successfully puzzle Satan, 
He whispered into his brother's ear, ' i Ask for the re- 
formation of Nelly ! " 

" Well then," said the tailor addressing the enemy, 
" the first condition is, that you thoroughly reform niy 
wife : make her to love me ; to give me due allow- 
ance of food, fuel, sleep, and all necessaries, and not 
to beat me. She may comb my head, but must not 
scratch it. She may kiss, but not bite me. The 
vinegar must be taken from her temper, and honey 
put in. The poker must only be used for the coals : 
in short, you have undertaken an impossibility. You 
may have made her what she is— but you cannot 
unmake her." 

" Ah ! master Nicholas," chuckled Jeremiah, who 
was vain of having suggested the above condition, 
" give it up, and confess that you are an easy simple- 
ton for once. A devil make an angel of a woman ! 
Ridiculous, quite ridiculous, Nick. You may pare 
her nails, but you cannot keep her from scratching. 
Say no more, give it up and depart, and carry a globe 



120 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

of snow on your shoulders, to your abode, to cool 
some of 3^0 ur friends." 

Lightning flashed over Jeremiah's head as he 
finished speaking, and effectually withered up his wit, 
as well as his courage. A long silence ensued, 
broken by the fiend at last, as he said — 

" The condition shall be fulfilled. Your person 
shall be sacred to your wife, no more to come in con- 
tact with poker or fist, nails or teeth. She shall 
supply your grinders with every thing but her own 
fingers. As for sleep, you have not much time for 
that, before I come to claim you as my slave. And 
as for fuel, Nelly will seat you close by the grate, 
and you may take warm coals in your hand like 
boiled potatoes : and do not feel the least anxiety 
about fuel hereafter, you shall have great abundance 
then. Nay, nay, Gideon, your wife's temper shall 
likewise be reformed. Oh ! you are a man of dis- 
crimination, and have perceived that it is no easy 
task which you have assigned me. — Now name your 
other condition." 

Gideon then trembled, lest the first condition should 
be fulfilled, and thought over some impossibility 
which he should ask the devil to perform, as the ful- 
filment of the second condition. 

u Then build me a wall, with stone and mortar, an 
hour before daybreak to morrow." 






« THE DEVIL'S WALL. 121 

" Provided there be a thaw." 

"No provisions/' boldly replied Gideon, — "no 
provisions. And lest there should be a thaw occa- 
sioned by crowds passing, it must not be built in a 
thoroughfare, but in a field at some distance from 
Ormskirk. It must be four hundred yards in length, 
and five feet in height, and all finished in an hour." 

" Why, Nick," interrupted Jeremiah, whose cou- 
rage flowed as well as ebbed, " you will take an hour 
to bring the sand from the sand-hills. Besides, no 
honest man will lend you his horse and cart." No 
answer was returned, and the enemy walked around 
the circle once or twice, and then stood full in front 
of Gideon, while the parchment, with his name, 
burned brighter, and more bright. But the flame did 
not conceal the blood by which it had been written, 
and the form of a heart, weltering amidst the flame, 
turning in agony, and guarded by the name. 

" The conditions," Satan exclaimed, ■ shall be per-* 
formed, and as soon as the wall is built, I shall escort 
you to your future home. Let this parchment float, 
till then, before you, in your waking moments and in 
your dreams. Accustom your mind to the thought 
of thunder, lightning, sounds of an earthquake, the 
hissing of fiends, the rolling of a deep unfathomable 
gulf, and the clutch of this little, little loving hand," 
and he switched out a horrible paw, scorched, but 



122 the devil's wall. • 

not burned; for every joint and muscle moved with 
inconceivable ease and speed. " Do not think, poor 
wretch, that you shall see me then as merry as I have 
been at present, nor will you be merry when limb 
from limb is torn and mangled ? Dream of it, — it must 
come to pass. A few hours, Gideon, and I meet you : 
till then, adieu," and the fiend vanished. A long 
track of blue light, and dark forms hovering near it, 
marked the course of his flight over the wood. 

As we have been long enough in the cold and 
bitter storm, and as all fire and brimstone have dis- 
appeared, we do not choose to walk side by side 
with the two tailors, on their way back, amidst the 
drifting of the snow, which, by this time, had fallen 
so heavily, that the way was completely blocked up. 

We prefer to enter the residence of the parson, 
and, seated opposite to his rosy countenance, note a 
few observations as to what was passing there. In a 
parenthesis, we have already described the worthy 
man as fat and oily. Indeed, he was singularly con- 
sistent, for whilst he preached good living to others, 
he did not neglect to practice it himself, though, 
perhaps, he had a private interpretation of the word, 
and Understood it in a different sense. He told his 
hearers that they would, in the end, feel the advan- 
tages resulting from it: and certainly, after fifty 
years practice, he looked very comfortable himself. 



THE devil's wall. 123 

This regimen had endowed him with size and colour, 
flesh and paint. He had been called a light of the 
church ; only, we presume, because his face, in shape, 
resembled the moon, though scarcely so pale. Yet, 
withall, Dr. Mauncel was mild and benevolent, and 
one of his best properties was, that he had a beautiful 
daughter, who had just reached her nineteenth winter. 
Many a sigh had been unconsciously breathed as 
Mary leant upon her father's arm, on their way to 
church : and as she knelt in prayer, many a look had 
been directed towards her, and lovers envied the 
vicar for the many caresses he must receive from such 
a fair being, and thought what a sanctuary her pre- 
sence would make of the very humblest home. The 
little arch creature knew this, and flung back her 
ringlets, that her face might be seen, and then con- 
trived to make it so demure and grave, that one 
might have imagined that a ray of happy, but feverish 
love, had never brightened over it. When she 
smiled, it was always so friendly, that a deeper senti- 
ment, it was thought, could not lurk beneath it ; and 
she would extend her hand so frankly, that no one 
could venture upon retaining and kissing it, — it felt so 
sisterly. And yet, the sweet rogue was in love with 
her cousin William, then residing at the Vicarage ; 
and when the good doctor was paying his addresses 
either to his meals or his sermon, the young pair were 



124 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

toying with each, other's hands, and his reverence 
had once been startled from his reveries, by a very 
loud kiss. 

We have, strangely enough, omitted to mention 
that it was Christmas night on which ail the transac- 
tions we have recorded of the tailors, took place ; so 
that lights were still seen in the vicarage, and a goose, 
with others of the same genus, was standing on the 
table very peaceably, if we except the smoke of their 
anger, which was ascending, and, as the vicar 
facetiously remarked, much more comfortable where 
they were, than without, in the fury of the storm. 

" Is all in readiness ? Now, nephew, you can fence 
and carve, bisect and dissect ; but when you reach my 
age, you will only be able to devour, decant, or digest. 
Stay; Mary, bring Eehoboam and Jeroboam, with 
all their tribes. Rehoboam was the son of Solomon, 
and there is no reason why a wise man should not be 
fond of him. Come, haste, Mary, else I shall send 
William to bring you." 

" Nay, nay, uncle," said the youth, " to avoid delay, 
I will go at once, and chide her so, that she must 
despatch. Now, — dear Mary," and the happy couple 
ran out of the room together. 

" Sly rogues," chuckled the old man, who saw how 
matters stood. 

Mary, it seems, had been refractory, for it was not 



the devil's Wall. 125 

until a considerable length of time had elapsed, that she 
appeared, carrying a few glasses, whilst her cousin 
bore two large bottles, Rehoboam and Jeroboam. 

" Ah ! ah ! " cried the vicar. " Fie, fie, whence 
come these blushes, Mary ? Let both of you ap- 
proach; now kneel; and God bless you, my dear 
children ! Nephew William, take her hand as a 
Christmas present from her father ; you have already 
obtained her heart from herself." 

" Dear, dear uncle," exclaimed the delighted youth, 
as he clasped his relative's knees with his hands. 

" Nay, nay," the parson interrupted, " put your 
arms around that blushing neck. I have long watched 
you. When you read for the old man, William, she 
sat beside you, gazing upon the same book, and when 
your locks and cheeks were together, your voice be- 
came agitated, and then she looked innocently into 
your face. You always preferred a large folio, and she 
slipped her little hand in one side, beneath it, and 
then you put yours through, to meet hers ; and for 
hours, the happy father has been delighted with 
your loves. Ah! one other remembrance comes 
upon me. In our evening walk I was strolling be- 
hind you, when a beautiful child left his sister's 
hand, and ran to you, Mary, and climbing up, kissed 
you once and again. I was near enough to hear 
William say, i now, cousin, give me one likewise.' 



126 

Ah. ! rogues, rogues/ 5 and lie took them both in his 
arms, and hu^ed them together, when a knocking 
was heard at the gate. The vicar started, but the 
lorers were so happy in each other, that they had not 
even heard the noise. 

*■' Some poor traveller seeking shelter from the 
storm. How the storm blows without. Hark to that 
awful howl," and the good man arose from the table. 
He heard the servant open the door, and instantly a 
form bounced into the room, all drifted and covered 
with snow. A single shake served to discover Mrs. 
Gideon Chiseiwig. 

(i Oh ! doctor,"' she exclaimed, in a tone altogether 
foreign to her usual voice, (i what a dream I have been 
visited with. The devil has appeared to me, and 
shewed my dear husband's name, affixed to a contract, 
that he shall be a slave in hell, from to-morrow night, 
henceforth, and for ever. M He is then to come and 
take him from me. Oh ! I have shamefully treated 
Gideon, and now I love him so much, that I could 
die for him. ' Twas but this evening, that I struck 
him with these heavy hands. Oh ! doctor, what can 
I do ? Is there no hope I " 

Dr. Mauncel was altogether astonished and con- 
founded. The woman now before him had the repute 
of a termagent ; and yet she spoke so affectionately, 
and bitterly upbraided herself, for her former cruel 



the devil's wall, 127 

treatment of her husband. Nor did she appear at all 
under the influence of strong drink. (i Good woman/' 
he at length inquired, " where is your husband I ™ 

••' He hat gone and sold himself to the devil, for my 
conduct towards him. I have made earth miserable, 
and he would rather live in hell, than dwell with me 
any longer. Oh ! how I could now love him ! My 
heart is changed, but it is too late ! Yes, yes, it is too 
late ! " and she wrung her hands in wild agony, tore 
hair, and shed more tears than Jeremiah could 
have done. 

■• Mrs. Chkelwig," returned the vicar, " you have, 
indeed, been anything but a dutiful and affectionate 
wife to your spouse, but now begin a thorough refor- 
mation. It is only a dream of evil with which you 
have been visited, and Gideon shall, doubtless, be 
spared to you for many a long year yet/*' 

"It cannot be! Although the storm rages, he is 
not in the house ; he has gone and sold himself for my 
shameful conduct. In the afternoon I forbade him to 
go to bed, until I should have arisen ; nay, more, I 
planted these nails in Li; face and head, as a tender 
good night for a dear husband. Ah ! wretch that I 
am, and yet, he patiently submitted, took the hand 
which had struck him, so affectionately, and was 
making gaiters for the feet which had kicked him." 



128 



u 



Ah ! Mrs. Chiselwig, you were a sad wife," 
chimed in the parson. 

" "What tempted you/' asked Mary Manncel, " to 
be cruel to Gideon ? He was always so kind and at- 
tentive to you." 

Her cousin William approached, and whispered 
something which was inaudible to all others, save 
Mary herself. She smiled so prettily, and with such 
an affectation of malice, as she tossed her head, and 
said, u Try me, you are free at present, but have 
given me the chain. I ' 11 rule you, and beat you into 
the sober obedience of a husband. You have told me 
frequently that you were my slave : I shall shortly 
prove it." 

" Dear Mary, go on, go on, and tell me what a good 
little wife you will make." 

Nelly once more appealed to the vicar, with great 
earnestness. " Oh ! sir, have you not a charm to be 
obtained from all those books, from all your sermons, 
from all your robes, by which you can break the con- 
tract with the devil. Laugh not ; he appeared to me, 
in such a form, and uttering such words, that to my 
dying day I dare not rehearse them. To-morrow 
night he comes to claim Gideon ! Your profession is 
to tame and conquer the enemy. Oh ! now exert 
that power ! " 



THE devil's wall. 129. 

" To-morrow night ; well then, go home, and I 
will come at noon, and see what is to be done. 
Good woman, you have (innocently I grant) spoiled 
my supper, for who can eat with the smell of brim- 
stone. I declare that that goose now appears 
to me to have hoofs, instead of claws. Mary, give 
Mrs. Chiselwig a compliment from Rehoboam, to 
cheer her on her way home, through the storm. 
You' 11 find Gideon, I hope, there before you, and prove 
that all your fears have been the baby thoughts of a 
horrid dream. May you long live for each other, — 
and, Nelly, you will shew, by your future course of 
conduct, I trust, that you are willing to atone for all the 
domestic misery which you confess to have brought 
upon honest Gideon. Nay, drink it oif, Mrs. 
Chiselwig; it is warmer than snow, eh?" 

Nelly, after many thanks to the vicar, emptied the 
glass, and once more braved the storm. 

The walls of the houses were now completely 
drifted, and not a footstep had left its trace on the 
snow-covered streets. What a lonely feeling is over 
the soul, when nothing is heard but the deep gust of 
the wind, driving the storm before, around, and 
against us, and when all objects are being wrapped in 
winter's white raiment. For us, in youth, there 
never was a greater luxury, than to wander over the 
dreary mountain and vale, with the snow pelting on 

L 



130 

our face, as it was turned upwards, when not a 
glimpse of the sky could meet it ; and then, after 
having become thoroughly exhausted, to enter some 
natural cave, or sheepfold, on the waste, and there 
seated, gaze around upon bush, bank, and hill, 
cottages, and woods, all thatched with white : and 
even yet, by night, has the old man taken his staff, 
and tottered to the hall door, to stand without the 
threshold, devoutly uncovering his head, white as 
winter's after December has smoothed it, and looked 
up, while the snow fell, sweet and grateful as the 
kisses of his only child, upon his dim eyes, and 
feverish forehead, — and as he entered the room, has 
forbidden Jane to wipe away the flakes, for he 
wished them gently to weep themselves to death, on 
his face, in all their virgin sorrow. Rain, we love 
thee not, even in thy spring showers, and must 
canopy our head to protect it from thy salutations : 
but Snow, we uncover it for thy kisses, so pure and 
soothing. How beautiful art thou, when the mes- 
senger of death ; and a holier and a whiter bed dost 
thou afford the poor traveller, than could be smoothed 
and softened by the hand of his young and beloved 
wife, in his own happy abode, where, true as her love 
in difficulty and trial, burns the signal of her expecta- 
tions, through the small lattice, during the long night, 
and often trimmed in vain ! How gently is he hushed 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 131 

to sleep, amidst the wreathes of thy purity, unconsci- 
ous of the blast. Not a limb aches, and heaven, like- 
wise, bids thee be thy lover's shroud and tomb ! 

Had Mrs. Chiselwig, however, been disposed to 
apostrophize the snow, it would have been in very 
different language ; and, perhaps, the good woman 
had reason, as she arrived, almost blinded and sense- 
less, at the door, where stood two figures, whom she 
instantly recognized as Gideon and Jeremiah. 

" Dear, dear husband ! " she exclaimed in raptures, 
and flung her arms fondly around his neck, for the 
first time since marriage, and then she sobbed. 
Gideon had started back instinctively, when he be- 
held the arms' raised, but now he was convinced of 
Nelly's affection, and joined her sobbing. It may be 
superfluous to add, that Jeremiah's sympathetic 
sluices were not closed on this occasion, and that 
they threatened to deluge his person. 

" Oh ! Gideon, you shudder in my embrace." 

" Aye, aye, I am a lost man, yet now, I feel so 
happy in your love, dear Nelly. But I am very, 
very cold." 

The door was opened, and after entering the house, 
Nelly was informed of the exploit in the Rough 
Wood. She upbraided not, she only kissed her 
husband, wept, and looked heart-broken. Gideon 
conjured her not to be changed in temper for one 
day at least, and still to treat him harshly. 



IS2 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

" I could not/' was the affecting reply, " though, 
such conduct were to save your life. Oh ! I feel 
ashamed of myself. You must, if you wish me to be 
happy hereafter, give me as many scratches, kicks, 
and angry words, as I have ever given you. Promise 
me, Gideon." 

Gideon did promise, and as the first-fruits of the 
vow, kissed her. They retired not to rest, for, as the 
husband piteously remarked — 

" Dear wife, I cannot, and I should not sleep. I 
must gaze upon you as long as I am permitted. I 
must speak with you as long as my language is of 
earth. I must embrace you as long as I am not 
called upon to embrace clods, dust, and worms. Ha ! " 
he cried in a frantic voice, " not that ! not that ! I 
am denied burial, and must go, body and soul, to the 
dark pit ! I shall be mangled, and Jeremiah will 
not be allowed to sew me together, into a decent 
corpse. Oh ! oh ! " 

At length, punctual to his appointment, the vicar 
came, attended by his nephew. What was the aston- 
ishment of the worthy man, when he learned that 
Gideon had fulfilled verbatim his wife's dream, and 
actually sold himself, for better, for worse, to the 
devil ! He gravely shook his head, and the motion 
was also communicated to his paunch, as he remarked — 

" I am afraid that the present is a case far beyond 
any poor skilL I once, indeed, had the honour of 



THE devil's wall. 133 

casting out a devil, but he was a blue devil, and I 
put his victim into a room by himself, for a month, 
and removed a large bottle, after which the man was 
never tormented with him again. But this — " 

" And you a doctor of the church," interrupted 
Jeremiah — " humph! — with a black coat, professing 
that you are able and inclined to fight the devil in his 
own colours. Now, if you could fight a blue devil, 
in a black coat, would you not have a greater chance 
of success in fighting a black devil ? Had I as many 
prayers, homihes, and sermons, Dr. Mauncel, I 
would instantly take and pull him by the nose, very 
much to the lengthening of his proboscis. Oh ! doctor, 
accompany us to the place of the awful meeting, and 
I will carry the Book as your weapon ! " 

"Yes, yes," added Mrs. Cliiselwig with great 
earnestness and simplicity, "and I will carry — what 
was the name, sir? — Yes, E-ehoboam. I'll carry 
Rehoboam for you." 

" He is a dear child, and I could scarcely trust 
him out of my own hands." 

But we cannot detail the conversation, many epi- 
sodes of which were long prayers, and spiritual 
maxims, calculated to do anything or everything, 
save to overturn and reverse the horrid destiny of 
Gideon — the doomed of Satan. None gave consola- 
tion, until the parson's nephew suggested that it was 



134 THE devil's wall. 

quite possible, indeed extremely probable, that the 
devil would find the building of the wall a task, by 
no means easy ; and that, for his part, he would be 
most willing to take his uncle's post, and accompany 
pow? Gideon to the place of rendezvous, and see the 
wall to be, in mason's terms, sufficient and proper, 
before the Devil could claim a hair of the tailor's 
head. Still, this was not altogether satisfactory, for 
the first condition, and that which appeared the most 
difficult, had been strictly fulfilled. 

As the clock struck every hour, Gideon seemed to 
hear the fiend exclaim, " prepare." His heart vi- 
brated so much, that had it been skilfully placed in 
the mechanism, it would have regularly and accu- 
rately moved the pendulum. He counted every 
shade darkening on the sky, until night came on; 
and melancholy, if not poetical, was his farewell to 
the glorious sun. He was not altogether ignorant of 
figure and trope, to eke out his pathos, as will be 
seen. 

" There thou art, about to disappear for ever from 
these delighted eyes, with thy beautiful chariot ! 
That dark cloud is thy coachman, with a pink-coloured 
vest. He is now mounting, and in a moment will be 
ready to drive thee into the ocean, and wet thy gar- 
ments, making them truly uncomfortable for thy 
tailor, whoever he be, to repair. He has lighted his 



THE devil's wall. 135 

pipe of tobacco, [and puffs out the smoke to keep 
away the sea sickness. His drab great coat is now 
over him, and he is exclaiming, ( 'all's right, all's 
right.' 'Tis false, charioteer, all's wrong, wrong. 
Farewell, thou orb of day. I go, where time is not 
measured by day — the tailor; and clad by night — 
his journeyman. Yet just one other peep ; yes, here is 
thy ray upon my hand. Oh! Nelly, hast thou a, 
glove to put over my hand, and thus confine the light 
for ever to be my hope. Farewell ! To-morrow 
thou again appearest, but not for me. Perchance, as 
thou arisest over the finished wall, thou mayest ob- 
serve my head as the cope stone. At morn, how 
anxiously have I removed the nightcap from my eye 
to behold thy charms, O sun ! How beautifully dost 
thou gleam into the soup, and kindly reveal all the 
peas and beans which slily he at the bottom of the 
dish. How fondly hast thou loved my needle, and 
even danced, with thy hundred feet, upon the point ! 
Farewell ! " and he closed the window and wept. 

The speech may contain a little of the ludicrous ; 
not so the feelings. In vain did Nelly, who had been 
a little consoled by the remarks of the parson's 
nephew, and who had, therefore, been able to attend 
to cookery, set before him food the most savoury, to 
tempt his appetite, with what one of the signs ele- 
gantly terms " the real-original-genuine-best Ormskirk 



136 THE devil's wall. 

gingerbread." As her hands spread them on the 
table, Gideon's sorrow was renewed, for the thought 
struck him, that they would move before him no 
more. It was no easy matter for the good man to be 
resigned to the loss of his wife, just when she had 
become so agreeable and affectionate. 

Soon Mary Mauncel entered, leaning on the arm 
of her cousin. She had tried all her arts to dissaude 
him from the expedition, and had even threatened 
never to speak to him again. And yet, out of pure 
love and care for him, and of her own accord, she had 
come along with him to Gideon's house. And never 
had she spoken so much and so tenderly, as she did 
now, cautioning William, for her sake, not to be rash. 
Jeremiah shewed them to seats, and because there 
was a scarcity of chairs, mounted the table himself. 
Gideon had watched the motion. 

" Ah ! Jeremiah, I have sat there for the last time. 
Orders shall be sent, good broad cloth shall be spread 
out, but no Gideon shall be there to cut, sew, and 
mend." 

" Reverse the picture," added his brother, " and 
change the scene. A horrible pit, at the bottom of 
which — " 

" Nay, Jeremiah ; do not make me to anticipate, 
it. Young gentleman, how are your nerves braced 
for the work ? Give me your hand." 



the devil's wall. 137 

At that moment, however, the lover felt his hand 
touched, and detained gently by Mary, so he held out 
the sinister one to the tailor. 

" Ready, quite ready, Gideon. I shall return with 
you safe again. Fear not ; you shall not lose Mrs. 
Chiselwig, nor," he added in a whisper to his beau- 
tiful companion, " shall I lose Mary Mauncel." 

" Is the night calm ? " meekly inquired Nelly, who 
had some thoughts of accompanying her husband. 

" Beautiful and clear," was the reply. " The snow 
is glistening in the moon's rays, and not a breath of 
wind awakes it." 

" Beautiful it is," added Mary, in a low voice to 
William, " but for ghosts, devils, and your folly. 
How much happier should we have been together, in 
the garden." 

Jeremiah's very acute ear had distinguished these 
words. "Ah! my young lady, the open field, 
where we are to meet the enemy, is much more ro- 
mantic than a garden ; and you must be happier 
there, as the shelter is better. The devil had fled 
without a place of meeting being definitely assigned, 
but I had courage enough to recall him, and then we 
agreed upon a spot of ground to the right of Aughton 
Moss, and in the direction of Cleives Hills. Garden ? 
No, no, for were I concealed behind a bush, even in 
the presence of your father, the enemy might ask him 



138 the devil's wall. 

to bestow the little bird that was in such a bush, and 
his reverence, not knowing, might comply, and I 
should then be caged. All must be open and ex- 
posed." 

" No more," exclaimed Gideon in agony, after he 
had returned from the door, where, for the last 
minute he had been gazing upon the moon, "no 
more must I see thy light, after a few short hours. 
Ha ! and the candle too. But let me try how I can 
do without it," and he immediately extinguished it. 
" Horrible darkness ; and then I must for ever put 
on and take off my clothes, and shave and wash my- 
self with liquid fire, and eat without a light; yes, eat 
brimstone and tempest, without having a candle to 
shew the mouth. Hush, hush, I hear some fiend 
eating. His lips smack." 

Gideon was not wrong in one part of his conjec- 
tures, for Mary's lover, taking advantage of the light 
being extinguished, was attempting to console and 
pacify her by whispers and kisses. The clock now 
struck the hour of eleven, and Nelly lighted the 
candle, to prepare the last supper for her husband. 
Not a word was spoken. Every countenance was 
fixed upon the miserable pair. Every little noise 
startled them, and then again they were immovable, 
as gloomy pictures. The candle flame turned blue. 
The chimney looked darker and darker. Shadows 



THE DEVIL'S "WALL. 139 

flitted upon the wall, in formidable guise. At length 
the parson's nephew proposed that Miss Mauncel, 
rather than return to her father, should keep poor 
Nelly company in their absence. 

" Come, Gideon, come ; it is the hour." "What 
terror these words inspired in all, save the speaker, 
who laughed at superstition, and even at the devil ! 
The tailor's limbs trembled, — he looked up, and then 
hid his face in his hands. Jeremiah brought a long 
cloak, to wrap his brother from the cold. All things 
were adjusted, as for a criminal on the drop. He 
was at the door. Nelly gave a shriek ; — her husband 
heard it not. She embraced and hugged him, — he 
was passive in her arms. 

" Oh! — he is dead already ! " she exclaimed, "he 
is, — yes ! " 

But they observed, by the rolling of his eyes, that 
although his reason might have fled, his spirit was 
still in its tabernacle. Jeremiah shook him, but 
Gideon responded not. He was dragged forth, as 
the hour had already passed, and yet, no farewell was 
uttered by him. Nelly's farewell was a loud, a long, 
a piercing shriek, as he was moved over the threshold, 
and then a longer fainting fit. 

The snow crisped beneath their feet, a slight breeze 
passed over their heads, and these were the only 
sounds heard. The hour of twelve was striking in 
the town, as they reached the spot assigned. 



140 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

Gideon now seemed to awake from his insensibility. 
He attempted to speak, but words and utterance 
altogether failed him. The magic circle was drawn 
around, and he looked up to summon the enemy of 
mankind to fulfil his engagements, when a violent 
fit of shuddering seized his limbs, and something not 
less gentle passed over his soul. The stars above 
were fiery, and gleaming with malignant aspect and 
influence over a mortal's fate, and around them was 
a dull haze, which was interpreted into a shroud, 
Not that the tailor Was an astrologer, in faith or 
practice : but there are moments and circumstances 
when the orbs of heaven appear as the types of 
earth's history, — as the eyes of fate turned upon in- 
dividuals, likewise, with their revelations. He then 
gazed around. Not a tree or fence stood near, for a 
covert ; but a desert heath, still more desolate 
in its appearance from its snowy covering. The 
ground, with its winter's carpet, was prevented 
from echoing to footsteps : and the air seemed, too, 
as if it were bound up from the vibrations of sound, 
— for over all was a dead silence. 

William Mauncel was the first who spoke. ' ( Gideon, 
thou tremblest ; I will take thy duty. Give me the 
charm by which thou renderest the devil obedient to 
thy call. Eh ? does he stand upon ceremony ? My 
good uncle assures us that he frequently pays us a 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 141 

visit when he is not invited, and that he makes him- 
self such a pleasant fellow, that we are loth to give 
him a hint that it is not agreeable for the time to have 
his company, much less to shew him to the door. 
Ah ! ah ! Gideon, you were too polite, you gave him 
your card, with name and residence, last night. That 
will make him troublesome. He is a punctual 
-keeper of his appointments. Now, pray, give me the 
signal. Nay, then," as Gideon's voice could not be 
heard, " Jeremiah will oblige me." 

The substance of the directions was repeated from 
-the old book, where they had, at first, stimulated the 
tailor's courage, to make him more than a mortal 
hero. William laughed at the affectionate terms in 
which he was to invite the enemy ; and began, in as 
low and gentle a tone, to say, u Come, James, come," 
as he had ever employed when he had tapped at the 
window of his uncle's study, where his beautiful 
cousin was, whispering, " come, Mary, come," in order 
that she should trip out and enjoy a moonlight 
scene, seated along with him in the arbour. Still the 
devil was not pleased most graciously to appear, and 
William laughed and shouted in full merriment. He, 
indeed, believed in the devil's journeyings to and fro, 
over the earth, and in his exertions and plans to ob- 
tain victims by false and almost involuntary contracts ; 
but then he was not frightened, for as he firmly 



142 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

believed that human skill, stratagem, and valour 
might baffle him. "Where was the necessity, he 
reasoned, of mistaking his black majesty for a gentle- 
man in black ; of using blood instead of ink ; of re- 
ceiving elate stones instead of golden coins ? He 
also held as a part of his superstitious creed, the ex- 
istence of certain old ladies, on whose chins the Lan- 
cashire rains have fallen with such a fructifying in- 
fluence, as to beard them " like the pard ;" with hands 
dark and sickly, from the deadly drugs which they 
mix over the light of the cauldron, in their cave, 
and with decrepid and corrupted forms, as if they 
were spirits of another world, and had come to the 
charnel house, and there clothed themselves in a body 
which had begun to be the prey of worms ; and with 
souls, whose every idea was familiar with the dark 
fates in store for earth, and rejoiced in those which 
were to blast the happy, and destroy the beautiful. 
But then, he as firmly held that their spells might be 
made to fall impotent upon man. He laughed at 
them, and was prepared to scratch them, in their 
only vulnerable part, — above the breath. In travelling, 
he cared not though he should have the company of 
a ghost, provided it only spoke, and recounted 
some horrible deed, as the avenger of which it 
walked the earth, — for he hated silence. At home, 
he would have shook the devil very frankly and 



the devil's wall. 143 

cordially by the hand, had he ever paid him a visit, 
and he would have smoked a pipe, or drunk a cup of 
tea (had tea then been known) with any witch, in her 
own abode. Thus William Mauncel was exceedingly 
merry in prospect of beholding the devil, whom he 
imagined that he could so easily thwart. In a loud 
voice, he again exclaimed, <( come, James, come," and 
instantly a little man, with the tools of a mason-builder, 
stood opposite to Gideon. 

" Gideon Chiselwig, give me the dimensions of the 
wall which I have contracted to build. You know 
that it is now an hour from my day break, and I must 
finish it, and then claim you. You know me ? — or 
shall I disclose my features ? and assume some of my 
former tones, and thus convince you that I am — the 
devil ? " 

Gideon trembled still more, and feebly ejaculated, 
" No, no. I believe in very deed [that thou art my 
enemy, and, I beseech thee, give me no further proof." 

" Until," was the return, " your very existence 
and employment, as well as habitation, shall prove it." 

" And that shall never be," interrupted the vicar's 
nephew. " Shew thyself to us, belch fire and smoke, 
if you do not wish to pass for an unskilful conjuror." 

" That would do him good," remarked Jeremiah." 
a good and powerful vomit would be of essential 
service. Whenever I have compelled my food to 



144 THE devil's wall. 

march too quickly down into my stomach, I am not 
well until it has made a hasty retreat back again to 
head quarters. It is exactly the same when too 
much goes at once. Now, I suppose that you 
have rather more of fire and smoke than you 
could wish. In fact, your throat is said to be 
worse than a chimney. "Would it not, therefore, 
be prudent to vomit a little?" 

" To be sure it would," answered young Mauncel, 
trying to restrain his laughter, "yet, Jeremiah, he 
has enough of brimstone to physic him." 

The earth instantly shook; beneath and around 
them, they heard the elements as if contending 
in the bowels of the earth ; fire blazing, rivers dash- 
ing and rolling, and thunder reverberating. Jere- 
miah fell down, but very quietly, and lay with 
his face close to the ground, if we except his 
hands, which, somehow or other, intervened be- 
tween the snow and his watery countenance. 
Gideon groaned and shrieked alternately; and 
their companion, now, was startled into silence 
and paleness, so awful were the signs of the 
devil's presence and power. A low, but deep 
voice, now came from the mason, as he approached 
to the circle. 

"Give me your directions, Gideon, as to the 
place where I shall commence to raise the wall, 



the devil's wall. 145 

and they shall be obeyed. For a time I am your 
servant, and am content to be so, for through eternity 
I shall be your master : men value every thing by 
time — devils value every thing by eternity. And 
who would not be a servant for such hire ? — an hour's 
labour, — and as a compensation for it, a soul to tor^- 
ment through all eternity! Come, haste, give me 
the dimensions of the wall. Eh? have I not re- 
formed Nelly ? " 

Gideon tremulously answered, that he had given 
the dimensions last night. 

"True, true," was the reply, "you did. Gaze, 
and soon you shall behold the wall arising, and as the 
last stone is placed, be ready to meet your fate ; yet," 
he soliloquized, as he moved round the circle, " what 
have I, in which to carry the sand for the mortar ! I 
can tear up stones, but I cannot dig for sand, and 
what can I procure to convey it from the sand hills ! 
Oh ! I see it." 

Jeremiah's apron had been more valorous than its 
master, and boldly, though very unwisely, had ven- 
tured to lie down without the circle, and, in a moment, 
was seized upon by Satan, who disappeared with his 
spoil to a little distance. Then commenced the tear- 
ing up of the stones; and so speedily was this part of 
the engagement finished, that Jeremiah remarked, 
with much warmth in his approbation, " that the 

M 



146 the devil's wall. 

devil would make an excellent quarryman, and that 
he must have been employed in digging and building 
his own pit." All the fiends of hell seemed to be let 
loose, so loud was the noise, and so wide and deep 
the shaking. "Whenever the stones were heaved up 
too large, lightning leapt upon them, and they were 
broken into smaller sizes. But what was still more 
surprising, a deep smoke arose, and every object, for 
a short space, was imperceptible, until it was rolled 
away by a vivid flash of fire, furious as a tempest. 
The ground was no more covered with snow, and 
Jeremiah found himself squatted on the mud. The 
enemy could not be seen, but all the stones were 
placed ready for the builder. 

" He is gone over the moss," exclaimed Gideon, 
" to the sand hills. Ha ! dost thou not, Jeremiah, 
perceive those wings of fire fluttering in the distance, 
away towards the sea ? And soon he will return to 
finish his undertaking. I have no hopes." 

" Would that his hoofs sunk in the moss," ejaculated 
his brother, " for many a better fellow than he, has met 
with his fate there. Oh, brother, sustain your spirits, 
and your body likewise." 

There was great propriety in the latter admonition 
of Jeremiah, for Gideon's body seemed a little off the 
perpendicular ; and accordingly he was assisted in 
removing himself to a tree, which the sudden thawing 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 147 

of the snow had revealed, and there he was sta- 
tioned, leaning against its trunk, while the same pre- 
cautions for their safety were adopted as before. 
Minute after minute passed on, and still the enemy 
came not. The stones lay exactly in the same posi- 
tion. The doomed tailor could now listen, with 
a slight portion of faith and hope, to the conso- 
lation which young Mauncel gave ; when a slight 
rustling was heard in the branches of the tree, and 
something of a red colour was perceived. All strained 
their eyes, but nothing more of shape, colour, size, or 
essence, could be learned. 

" Ah ! " Jeremiah began, " he is fond of trees. 
How he coiled himself, as Dr. Mauncel observed, in 
the tree of knowledge of good and evil, pointing to 
the apples, and smacking his own lips ! But let him 
stay there at present, and hatch a blackbird's nest, if 
he be so inclined. Gideon, you are now safe." 

Scarcely had he finished these words, when a fiery 
cloud was seen coming from the direction of the sand 
hills, and soon Satan stood before his heap of sand, 
with a large trowel in his hand, ready to build the 
wall. But first he looked around, and descrying the 
altered station of the party, walked up to the circle, 
while his mouth belched forth fire and smoke. 

" Think not," he exclaimed in a horrible tone, 
" think not that you shall escape, although, by your 



148 THE devil's wall. 

wiles, I have been detained ; and heavier shall be your 
punishment, for the trouble you have given me." 

" Do you sweat much ? " kindly inquired William 
Manned; " then stand a little to cool yourself. 
You have time enough to finish the wall. "Why have 
you returned so soon ? Pray, let us have a friendly 
chat." 

" Gideon Chiselwig," continued the fiend, without 
noticing the words by which he had been interrupted, 
" I tell thee that thy doom shall be much more severe. 
Rejoice at my momentary disappointment, as I detail 
it to you, and then think how much more I shall re- 
joice over the torments which it shall cause you, as 
my subject, for ever. I placed the first load of sand 
in your brother's apron, and flew away with it — 
(Gideon, you shall have wings too, in a little,) — but 
when passing the moss, the cursed string broke, — " 

" Honesty is the best policy, friend," cooly re- 
marked Jeremiah. " You are well served for a 
rogue. You stole away my apron, and you have re- 
ceived a just recompense. Learn, Nick, to be more 
honest for the future, at least on earth. You may 
escape the clutch of a magistrate, as you and his wor- 
ship seem to be on very intimate terms, but believe 
ine, that sooner or later, vice will be punished. You 
know the proverb, I presume, ' that those who begin 



the devil's wall. 149 

with a pin, may end with an ox,' and I cannot ex- 
actly say, but that this apron stealing might have 
brought you into very serious danger. Let it be an 
example, Nicholas." 

" Rejoice at present," was the reply. " Mock me, 
Gideon, as well as your brother does, and listen. The 
strings of the apron broke, — " 

"Bad thread, bad thread, Gideon," again inter- 
rupted Jeremiah, " I told you so when it came. It 
must not be used for the collar of a coat." 

" The strings of the apron broke," patiently re- 
sumed the enemy, " and all the sand fell into the 
moss, and there it lies, a large heap and mountain. 
But, Gideon, beneath as heavy a mountain of my 
wrath you shall he, for ever and ever : " and he in- 
stantly departed to commence his work. 

Soon the wall arose a foot or two from the ground, 
and Gideon's fears once more attacked him. A loud 
laugh was raised, at intervals, by the infernal builder, 
and it seemed echoed by millions and millions of the 
lost spirits. He skipped upon the wall, and, revealing 
his awful proportions, gazed upon Gideon, with eyes 
of such fiendish malice and revenge, that even the 
reckless Mauncel shuddered, and covered his face to 
banish the sight. And now the wall was nearly 
finished, the earth was shaking all around, the hissing 



150 THE DEVIL'S WALL. 

of serpents was heard, and strange forms were seen 
moving beside the enemy. 

." Claim him ! claim him ! " shrieked forth innumer- 
able voices. The air seemed on fire, and dark masses 
were hastening through it, to the hellish scene. 
Deep gulfs were sounding and lashing their fury be- 
neath the ground ; and thunder seemed to bow the 
very poles of heaven, and make them totter. A 
long and wide circle of fiends was now made, danc- 
ing, and all pointing to Gideon with their black 
paws. 

"Hell claims him. Which part shall we seize? 
Yours, noble leader, is the head. Give me the hand, 
— how fondly I shall shake it. Give me the breast, 
—how fondly I shall lie upon it. Give me the arm, — 
how confidently he shall lean upon mine. Let me 
kiss him, — how he shall love my sweet lips. Let me 
wash his feet, — how gently shall the fire dry them. 
Let me perfume his body. Ha — ha — ha ! " 

Their leader now raised two stones in his hands, 
and thundered forth, with an awful voice — 

"Friends, these are the two last — and the wall 
is finished ! Wretch, who art called Gideon 
Chiselwig — dost thou behold them? the two last! 
the two last ! " and the whole infernal host raised a 
laugh of exultation, and poor Gideon fell to the 
ground. "Stay one little moment, Gideon," the 



THE DEVIL'S WALL. 151 

enemy exclaimed, " and you shall be supported in 
these loving arms. Stay — " 

At that very moment a deep silence pervaded the 
place, and a loud crowing was raised by a cock, as it 
announced the devil's day break, who must, there- 
fore, depart, without being allowed to finish the wall. 
He^stamped in fury, and all his infernal agents, dis- 
appointed of their prey, shrieked, and fled away. 
Jeremiah and young Mauncel comprehended the 
cause, and they shouted in joy, and taunted the fiend, 
until they beheld him approaching. In his hands he 
bore a large stone: — but his eyes glared not upon 
them, nor yet on the prostrate Gideon. They were 
fixed upon some object, which the branches of the 
tree seemed to conceal. Jeremiah, as he regained 
courage, addressed him, — 

"So, Nicholas — dost thou see an apple which 
courts that hungry eye ? " 

There was no answer made, but a motion of the 
devil's arm heaved up the stone, and instantly a cock 
fell down dead at Jeremiah's feet, who, raising it, 
thus apostrophized it , — 

" And thou hast saved my brother's life, by losing 
thine own ! But, unless thou has contracted thyself 
to the enemy, he shall not get thee, provided he does 
not invite himself along with us to dinner some day 
soon. No, Nick, begone. A fortnight ago, that. 



152 the devil's wall. 

church-yard clod, the sexton, told me that I was a 
brawny stripling, for I could mount my grandmother's 
cat with a stepping stone. Oh ! the fiend is gone ! 
"Well, poor bird, thou art a martyr, yet I shall com- 
mit thy sacred remains to my stomach, begging your 
young reverence's pardon, in hopes of a safe and cer- 
tain resurrection." 

They succeeded in raising Gideon from the ground, 
and when he was sufficiently recovered to listen to 
his escape, and the death of his preserver, the sad- 
ness of the latter news did not much take away from 
the joy of the former ; and he was altogether cured of 
his mania for supernatural achievements. 

And here, as the devil left his work unfinished, we 
leave ours ; with the exception of satisfying a few 
longings, which the antiquary, the lover, and the un- 
fortunate husband of a termagant wife, may feel. 

The first may yet see the heap of sand which the 
breaking of the devil's apron strings deposited in the 
moss. It is now called "Shirley Hill;" and thus 
observation confirms tradition, for how could a moun- 
tain of sand be native to a moss ? He indeed cannot 
be gratified with a sight of the apron ; for Jeremiah 
on the following day, escorted it home, and subse- 
quently, exhibited it so often to the good folks of 
Ormskirk, that the strings again broke, one dark 
night as he was making his way through a lane ; 



153 

and he had his suspicions that the hands of some 
old maid, and not the thread were culpable. 

The Devil's Wall still stands, but the acute Jere- 
miah had observed that the infernal builder, could 
not, with any portion of justice, have claimed Gideon, 
because the conditions of the contract, were not ful- 
filled, as the wall had only been built with sand. The 
large stone, some thirty years ago, could be seen firmly 
clasped between the boughs of the tree, where the 
cock fell — a martyr to his love of truth. 

And now, fair reader, what is the question which 
you wish to ask the old man ? Ah ! concerning 
William and Mary Mauncel ! A few weeks after the 
adventure, the worthy Doctor joined their hands, and 
as much happiness as thy own beautiful and romantic 
fancy can imagine in future for thyself, fell to their 
lot. On the occasion, Rehoboam and Jeroboam, 
with all their tribes, did not fail to appear : — and for 
their loyalty towards the fortunes of the family, they 
received marked attentions from the Reverend head ; 
whose lips, in an appropriate manner, confessed an at- 
tachment, by no means slight. Jeremiah, in the 
course of the nuptial evening, stepped in, to cry over 
the happiness of the young wedded pair, and, with 
his accustomed propriety, wished that the bands of 
love might never be broken, like his apron strings ; 
however fortunate the last circumstance had, most 



154 THE devil's wall. 

undoubtedly been. Years passed on, and sweet laugh- 
ing voices came upon the ear of the old vicar, as he 
sat in his study ; and rushing in, a band of beautiful 
grand-children began, in innocent mischief, to sport 
at his knees. 

The unhappy husband is informed, that Gideon and 
Nelly Chiselwig, were happy in each other : and that 
their only weapons of attack and defence were sweet 
words, and fond caresses. 

Some represent the devil as having horns : if so, 
he must have taken them from the head of Gideon 
Chiselwig. 



THE 

PROPHETESS AND THE REBEL. 



u Nay, Katharine, let us not return from all this 
quiet, to the noise of the town, until, like a young 
widow who veils her face from the past, and the 
relations of her dead husband, to go forth to other 
scenes, there once more to unveil it, — twilight wraps up 
the beauties of this vale, and then gives gentle and 
holy echoes to the streets. The town is pleasant then ; 
but now — a little further on, and we shall seat us by 
the Hermit's "Well. On its calm surface the first and 
brightest star of night will glimmer beneath our feet. 
Heed not my laughing sister." 

" My brother," gaily answered the companion of 
the lady, whom the speaker addressed, and whose 
arm was within his, " is pleased to be poetical. But 
cannot you prevent that same widow of yours, Mrs. 
Twilight, from leaving this vale, and entering the 
town in search o£ a husband, by wedding her yourself? 
Perhaps you are engaged already? — Is he Katharine ? " 



156 THE PROPHETESS 

" Keally, Alice, do you suppose that your brother 
would make me his confidant ? " 

" Would that Mrs. Twilight/' was the exclamation 
of the mischievions girl, " were here, to hide the blush 
on somebody's face ! Oh, look angry, hate James 
and his sister. He has scarcely succeeded in making 
you as sly a hypocrite as himself. My father sent 
him to Cambridge, to devote himself to Mother 
Alma, but he soon found another saint, who cared 
not for books and themes. The diligent student, 
whose letters home spoke of nothing but long vigils, 
and faint tapers burning through the night, was in 
love ! He had met with a beautiful lady of gentle 
blood, and high birth, whom I have seen, Katharine," 
and she looked archly up at her companion. " He 
thought of nothing but love, and of no one but her, 
and yet he counterfeited so well, that when he re- 
turned to us, he was pale in appearance, and retired 
in habits." 

" Alice," replied her brother, laughing, "you are a 
rare vixen, and will never be reformed, until love 
has caught you. You, indeed, pay but a poor com- 
pliment to the imagination and heart of a student, to 
suppose that he cannot be a lover. Ponderous tomes 
will crush every feeling but love. Mathematics will 
measure and bound, with their cold laws, every feel- 
ing but love. Amidst all his researches, the image 



AND THE REBEL. 157 

of one appears before him, bright and beautiful, even 
by the faint light of his lamp. She is of earth, but 
holy ; and the more that learning and genius throw 
their rays upon his mind, — that being the mirror in 
which she is reflected, — the "purer and softer does 
she become. But, Alice, you frequently cautioned 
me not to be a hard student." 

" And," added Katharine, " did not your brother 
gain many of the highest prizes ? " 

" He has gained one, Katharine, has he not ? " 
and the mischievous girl smiled significantly to her 
companion, who blushed with a deeper tinge than 
before, and seemed still more embarassed. 

" You mean the beautiful gold medal, Alice ? " in- 
quired her brother, anxious to smooth over the hint. 

ce Ah ! do I ? " returned his sister with a playful 
sneer. " But I have a tale to unfold concerning it, 
I often observed you walking in the garden, looking 
anxiously upon something suspended from your neck, 
and when I came up, you quickly placed it again 
next to your breast. Katharine, are you listening ? 
Well, one day I surprized you ; you affirmed that it 
was the gold medal — I denied that it was. It was a 
miniature likeness of one of my friends," and she 
fondly placed her arm around her companion, who 
drew the necklace closer to her bosom, lest, per- 
chance, some miniature misrht be discovered there also. 



158 THE PROPHETESS 

They wandered on, and they beheld the beauties 
of the setting sun, only on each other's counte- 
nances. They became more thoughtful, but not 
less happy. The two lovers, — for such was the rela- 
tionship between James Dawson, and Katharine 
Norton, — frequently exchanged kind looks, which 
the playful Alice did not fail to remark. James and 
Alice were the only children of a wealthy physician 
in Manchester. Their mother had died early, and this 
circumstance made them cling closer to each other. 
Dr. Dawson was harsh to them : he had been disap- 
pointed in the marriage-portion of his wife ; and he 
bade a very cold adieu to his son, as he left for 
Cambridge, and chided Alice for crying and teazing 
herself many days after. Yet, at times, affection arose 
in his breast towards them, for they were the exact 
image of her, who had once been enshrined in his 
love, until avarice hoarded up other treasures. Be- 
sides, he knew that he could not, with justice, con- 
demn his son as a mere bookworm, for James ex- 
celled in every athletic and graceful accomplishment : 
and he could not, on the other hand, taunt him as 
only a gamester and a fencer, for he had carried off 
the highest literary and scholastic honours. His en- 
dowments, both physical and mental, had frequently 
drawn forth the admiration of his father, but it soon 
subsided into indifference and neglect. Alice, occa- 



AND THE REBEL. 159 

sionally, as she sung the lays which her mother had 
taught her, and romped about his chair, in all her 
beauty and innocence, could warm her father's heart, 
so that he pronounced a blessing upon her destiny. 
But often, all her smiles and fond arts to please him 
were disregarded : she could not relax, by all her at- 
tentions, the sternness of his countenance. A tear would 
then start into her deep blue eye, and she would retire 
to call up the remembrance of her sainted mother. 

Katharine Norton was an orphan, and her parents 
had been of illustrious rank. She had travelled with 
a maiden aunt, and, as they were residing for a few 
weeks in the vicinity of Cambridge, she had met 
with young Dawson, and thus commenced an ardent 
attachment between them. And well might her ap- 
pearance have inspired even a stoic with the most 
thrilling love. Smooth, and fair as light was hei 
finely-formed brow, — changing its expression as i 
dark ringlet fell upon it, — or was thrown back. He] 
eyes seemed to be souls in themselves, endued with 
the faculty of thinking and feeling ; their brilliancy 
their colour, and their form, were as if they had beer. 
given by the emotion which then ruled her mind. 
The features were stamped with a wild and noble 
beauty. Nor was her form inferior to her counte- 
nance : majestic, yet playful ; like a vision with all 
the movements of music. She was now spending the 



160 THE PROPHETESS 

summer in Manchester, where Dawson had introduced 
to her his sister, and they were seldom out of each 
other's presence. They walked together, and James 
frequently joined them. 

The shadows of twilight were now mixing with the 
fading light of the western sky, and the hush of 
early eve was whispering silence in the vale where 
they were wandering. At length they reached the 
angle ; on rounding which, at a short distance, was the 
Hermit's Well, not famed for any medicinal properties, 
but for the pure water, which was said to have re- 
freshed an old man (who, in olden times, haunted the 
adjacent hills,) every morning, as soon as he had left 
his hard couch to journey along with the sun. 

On a stone beside it, there sat a young female, 
dressed in the rustic simplicity of a foreign country. 
Her age seemed only that of a child. Yet there was 
a feverish rolling of the eye, a changing tremor of the 
lips, and a gentle throbbing of the breast, which speak 
the mystery of a hidden sorrow, or of a superior na- 
ture. Not a blush of colour tinged the pure pallor of 
her face — like a statue dedicated to thought, in the 
midst of fragrance and light. Her hands were play- 
ing with flowers, carelessly, — for her thoughts, it was 
evident, were on a less tranquil subject, — and although 
they were, at intervals, raised to her face, yet it as- 
sumed a still sadder expression. 



AND THE REBEL. 161 

She was singing to herself in a low and melancholy 
strain, almost modulated to the still hush of the vale : 
and the notes seemed not so much to be proceeding 
from her voice, as her soul. Once or twice she started 
up, held her hands towards the west, and then placed 
them on her brow. Then she dipped them in the 
well, and with the pure water bathed her eyes. As 
soon, however, as young Dawson and his fair com- 
panions had approached within a few yards, her eyes 
quickly moved in the direction of the spot where they 
stood, and she became silent in her song. 

" Ah, brother," cried the laughing Alice, evidently 
not conscious of the merry tone in which she spoke, for 
her heart had quickly sympathized with the youthful 
sadness, of which she had now, unexpectedly, been a 
Avitness ; — "is this your young and interesting Mrs. 
Twilight ? What a beautiful creature ! She seems 
to enjoy all the luxury of grief, and her heart refuses 
to lose a tear of its sorrow. That brow might have 
been kissed by the last breath of many a brother, 
sister, and playmate : — so pale, calm and holy." 

" She is not of our country," added Katharine 
Norton. " Her dress, as well as her air, is foreign. 
How simply are those raven tresses braided ! " 

" Katharine," said her lover, " dost thou believe in 
young spirits, who are said to haunt solitary places ? 
Here, you might almost imagine, that we have 

jsr 



162 THE PftOFHETESS 

intruded upon one of them. How beautiful and thought- 
ful that girlish face is ! Now she looks towards us. Let 
us draw near, and entreat her to sing to us, while the 
stars are taking their places in the sky." 

The object of their curiosity and admiration arose 
meekly, as they stood before her, and allowed the 
hand of Katharine to be laid on her head. 

" A blessing on you, fair strangers ! It is night, — 
and do you wander abroad ? It is night, for the dew 
is .upon me. Ah ! that hand now laid on my head 
is gentle and soothing, as that which so often presses 
it in my sleepless dreams, throughout the long night ; 

Ah ! it speaks not to me : 

No face appears with smile, 
Its light I could not see, 

And trace the gentle wile, 
But bathed in perfume from the far-off land, 
Upon my head comes, — lies, a holy hand," 

and she raised her face to the sky so earnestly. 

" But, my pretty child," inquired Katharine, " why 
do you gaze upwards ? Does that hand, which visits 
you so oft, in dreams, appear then, at this hour, from 
out one of those changing clouds ? " 

(i Do I ! " the child exclaimed in intense emotion, 
indicated by her livelier tones and brightened face, — 
f.\ do I, indeed, gaze upon the wide, the beautiful sky ? 
Yes, it breathes upon my forehead ! Feel it ! " 




AND THE REBEL. 1^3 

They were bewildered at the strangeness of her 
words and movements. She took Katharine's hand, 
and held it to her brow, and then resumed, — 

" Now take it away. You would not deprive me 
of that sweet, sweet influence. Oh ! they tell me 
how glorious the sky is. I cannot see, I cannot think 
of it, I cannot even dream of it. I know all the 
flowers of earth by their touch and fragrance. I 
know, fair ladies, that you are beautiful, but the sky 
is far, far above me. I hear its sounds, but its face is 
veiled from me. "Will the time never come, when 
mine eyes shall open to a star, a bright-tinged cloud, 
a fair* expanse of love, to canopy and bound our 
dream ? Must the mean reptile be permitted to see 
them, although it prefers to crawl amidst dust ancj 
clods, — and shall not I ? " 

" God pities the blind, fair child," kindly returned 
Dawson. 

<( Have you seen God ? " 

(i No ; he cannot be seen by us, now." 

" Then I am happy," she replied. " Oh ! what a 
curse it would have been on me, when all others 
could see the perfection of love, wisdom, and power, — 
(for the flowers of earth, the sounds of heaven, tell 
me that God must be that perfect being,) — I, I alone 
was bhnd. Yes, I shall see yet. The little infant, for 
days awakes not its eyelids to behold the mother, in 



164 THE PROPHETESS 

whose bosom it is so fondly nursed, and the rich 
stream by which its pouting lips are fed ; but soon 
they are opened to meet hers, beaming love upon 
every movement. I never knew that infant's joy. 
Oh ! how I longed, in the midst of soft whispers, to 
become acquainted with her who called me child. 
But I am nature's child, and when this short life is 
ended, these eyes will be opened, and nature, my 
mother, shall be seen by me. These sightless orbs ! 
Oh ! I know not what it is to see, even in dreams. 
Dreams only hush me with sound, fragrance, and 
touch of love, in a dark cradle, but never remove the 
covering, that I might gaze upon the universe around. 
My little brother, far away in other lands, was my in- 
separable companion, until he went to the tomb. He 
led me to the river, and pointed my hand to the 
flickering light on its ripple, and then bade me look 
in that direction. He made me touch the sunbeam, 
resting and sporting alternately upon the bank, and 
then asked if I did not see it. He placed me beneath 
the moon, and bade me feel if I could not perceive 
its rays. He rowed me over the still, placid lake, 
and then he would rest on his oars, and point my 
finger to the stars, which, he said, were embosomed 
there ; and oh ! what secret sounds thrilled through 
my silent soul. But I never saw one object ! He 
bathed his beautiful face, and flung back his soft 



AND THE REBEL. 165 

silken hair j and bade me gaze on a brother ; — and I 
could not ! " 

Overpowered with the strength of her feelings, she 
sat down. Still, she covered not her face with her 
hands, but looked earnestly up, as if it were a sin to 
gaze away from the sky, which she longed so much 
to greet. Katharine and her companion kissed the 
young child, while Dawson kindly asked, — 

" From what land do you come ? You speak our 
language, but your appearance and feelings betoken 
you a native of a more genial sun. Why do you 
wander here ? " 

" Wander ! Is not life altogether a wandering ? I 
have no friends but flowers, and our home is the wide 
earth. I ever find them the same, wherever I am, 
and, therefore, I think that I am the same ; neither 
changed in place nor time. My brother left me alone. 
Oh ! was it not cruel to commit the beautiful boy to 
the tomb ? And yet, they told me that his name and 
age were marked in white, innocent letters upon his 
coffin ! Oh ! could the worms dare to crawl upon, 
or even touch with their pollution i Henrico Fortice, 
aged twelve years.' Was it not kind to mention his 
name and age ? " 

The two ladies took her hands in theirs, and kindly 
pressed them. They gazed upon her large bright 
eyes, and almost, for the moment, doubted that no 



166 THE PROPHETESS 

light had ever entered them, until tears had come 
trickling down her cheeks. They took a seat beside 
her, on the mossy stone. She spoke not, and her 
hand returned not their touch. They knew not how 
to console her. To their questions concerning her 
past life, her friends, and native country, she had 
given no definite answer : not because she seemed 
unwilling to detail all the facts, but because she 
seemed never to have known them herself; a creature 
of mere feelings, and thoughts, with no faculty for 
earth. Her existence had, evidently, been but a 
dream, beautiful, though troubled : and she had, 
hitherto, passed through it, like a bird, through 
every land, feeling the sunshine of the laughing sky, 
breathing the fragrance of wood and vale, at morn 
and eve, and echoing a part in the universal chorus, 
but knowing no more ; careless of all things but flight 
and happiness. She raised the hands of the two 
young ladies to her lips, and turning paler and paler, 
at length dropped them, and shrunk back with a low 
and half suppressed shriek of horror. 

" Disappointment, a broken heart, and death ! Yes, 
such a lot will be yours ; and so beautiful ! Ask me 
not, but I know: — these hands, they tear from my 
soul the sybil leaves of awful prophecy, which fate 
has given me, and my voice must scatter them forth 
to you. Would that I knew not the dark characters ! 



*# 



AND THE REBEL. 167 

— that my mind was as blind to your future destiny 
as these shrouded orbs ! " 

" Hold ! " exclaimed young Dawson, as he seized 
Katharine's hand, which the blind prophetess had, 
once more, taken. "Hold! — speak not another 
word of thy frightful thoughts. Nay, touch not her 
hand. Katharine, could you feel disappointment 
should nothing be spared to us but love ? Can your 
heart be broken when love encircles it? Death,— 
name it not ! " 

" Here, here is the cause. You ruin each other. 
Love and death are linked together. But, sir, be 
peaceable and loyal in the midst of rebellion, and 
happiness may yet be yours." 

A faint smile passed over Dawson's face, which 
had before been clouded; and with an attempt at 
gaiety, he returned, — 

" And am I not in the garb of peace ? My cap has 
not the nodding plume of war, but the quiet and 
simple flower of the valley. What two beautiful 
shields I have secured for myself in danger/ my own 
Katharine, and sister Alice." 

"Beware," repeated the prophetess, "of war. 
Change not the flower for the cockade ; and let none 
be your shields but those whom you now protect." 

No longer did she seem the soft and mournful 



I 



168 THE PROPHETESS 

child, who had longed so earnestly for the power of 
vision. She was altogether changed. 

" Follow me not. Detain me not. I shall weep 
for you all. Farewell, until we meet again/ 5 and 
she instantly withdrew, and darkness hid her steps. 

Two months have elapsed since the above interview 
and conversation took place, and the scene is now 
laid in Manchester. No more is the soft peace in- 
spired by evening walks, in lonely and secluded vales, 
to be breathed over the characters of our Legend. A 
rebellion, fostered by no dark intrigues, but by ro- 
mantic daring, had arisen, and the youthful heir of 
the unfortunate house of Stuart had returned from 
exile, and appeared to claim his own, in the country 
which dethroned his ancestors for their imbecility, 
wickedness, and tyranny. Prince Charles Edward 
had been educated at the court of France ; but unlike 
her, whom, in person, he was said so much to re- 
semble — Mary of Scotland, — his manners were un- 
tainted with the loose and dissolute habits prevalent 
there. Although surrounded with pleasure, revelry, 
and giddy pomp, his thoughts were of England and its 
crown ; and these tended to preserve him from the en- 
ervating influence of French dissipation. G allantry was 
only the occasional amusement, and not the sole pur- 
suit of his life. Nature had given him an exterior 



AND THE REBEL. 169 

on which no lady could frown, or be disposed to deny 
her favours ; but he frequently withdrew from the 
attractive company, where many of the proudest and 
fairest daughters of the land were fluttering around him, 
with attentions for the prince alone ; and in private, 
sighed over the ruin of the name he bore, and of the 
royal family, of which he was the sole representative. 
But buoyed up with the false accounts which he had 
received from those in this country, with whom he 
communicated, assuring him that so numerous and de- 
voted would be his followers, should he again appear 
at the head of them, to plead his cause by arms, he 
was induced to leave France, and towards the end of 
summer 1745, landed in the Hebrides; in a few 
days raised his standard in Invernesshire ; assembled 
a number of followers at Fort William, and pro- 
ceeded to Edinburgh, which opened to his claims. 
In the beginning of November he marched to Carlisle, 
where the ceremony of proclaiming his father king, 
and himself regent, was foolishly performed, and 
where the delay thus occasioned, seemed to paralyze 
the courage of his highland troops, and by carousing, 
to divide them into factions. 

Towards the end of the same month his troops, 
now amounting to six thousand men, entered Lan- 
cashire, and passing by way of Preston and Wigan, 
took up their quarters in Manchester, where they 



170 THE PROPHETESS 

hoped to secure provisions and ammunition, by free 
levies from the inhabitants, as well as to recruit their 
numbers by English soldiers. 

The twenty-ninth day of November was bright, 
and a slight breeze had not only prevented the heavy 
fog peculiar to the season, but had likewise cleared 
away the smoke which lay dense and dull upon the 
town; when, early in the afternoon, towards the 
suburbs, masses of people were drawn together, ex- 
pecting the arrival of the Pretender and his army. 
There were the mob, prepared to espouse the cause 
of any who should tickle their hands with a coin, or 
by sweet words, gain their sweet voices. But 
amongst them were many of noble rank, who had 
sympathized with the hardships of the present aspirant 
to the throne of his fathers ; and whom his romantic 
expedition had fired with visions of military glory 
and renown, and high titles and long lists. They 
impatiently spurred their horses to a short distance 
from the crowd, to obtain a better view, and then re- 
turned disappointed. Fair ladies were leaning on 
the arms of their lovers, forbidding them to share in 
the dangers of the enterprize, and in the crime of 
treason, but resolving, themselves, to get a sight of 
the handsome Chevalier, and praise his person. A 
silent hush was over all ; nothing was heard, save low 
and gentle whispers from the fair, who began to 



AND THE REBEL. 171 

doubt whether he would really appear, when the 
notes of distant music were borne on their ears, and 
the steady tramp of troops was, soon after, distinguish- 
able. The crowd rushed up to an eminence on the 
skirts of the highway, and beheld the banner floating 
over the rebel soldiery, and the gleam of broadswords 
flashing in the sun. A sergeant rode forth from the 
ranks, and furiously spurred his steed to the town, 
when loud shouts, arising from the people and the 
inhabitants, assuring him of the ready reception which 
his master should find, induced him, after waving his 
plumed bonnet in return, to halt, until the troops 
came up, which they speedily did, and, in haste, ad- 
vanced. At their head, surrounded by a band of 
hardy mountaineers with their left hand upon the 
dirk, rode the prince, with no traces of fatigue on his 
countenance ; and looking as well, after his short 
sojourn in the Highlands, as ever he did when he 
was the pride of the French court, where he was fed 
by its luxuries. He was in conversation with the 
Duke of Athol, who was beside him. 

There was an interesting melancholy upon the 
otherwise gay expression of his countenance, which 
suited well with the fallen fortunes of his family. 
He was of slight and graceful form, and, but for the 
noble enthusiasm beaming in his full blue eye, and 
the firmness and decision compressing his thin lips, he 



172 THE PROPHETESS 

might have been mistaken for one who was better 
qualified to do honour to the gaieties of a court, in 
the song and the dance, than the bloody field of 
strife. His dress served to display, to advantage, the 
beautiful proportions of his frame. His locks, of a 
light auburn hue, fell in ringlets beneath the blue 
bonnet, mounted with a white rose in front ; and the 
snowy whiteness of his almost feminine neck was but 
partially concealed by a plaid passing loosely over his 
breastplate, and held fast by a blue-coloured sash. 
His finely-polished limbs moving in all the elastic 
play and nerve of youth, and in perfect ease, were 
attired in the Highland kilt ; and so small and beauti- 
fully formed was his foot, that no lady would have re- 
fused her fair hand as a stirrup to the young Cheva- 
lier. His dress was indeed plain for one who was 
now to strive for the crown of Great Britain, but none 
could gaze upon the kingly form which it enveloped, 
without almost wishing that soon he might be in- 
vested with the purple robe of rule and empire. 

His companion, the Duke of Athol, with whom he 
seemed frequently to converse as a familiar friend, 
was tall and muscular. Broad and commanding was 
-his forehead, seen occasionally as he raised his bonnet, 
when the prince mildly gave forth his orders. Long 
dark whiskers added to the sternness and fierceness 
of his countenance, and large over-hanging eyebrows 



AND THE REBEL. 173 

only seemed to arch in the fiery keenness of his rest- 
less glance, and concentrate it still more deadly. 

" Athol," said the prince, as he beheld the crowd 
becoming pale and horror-struck at the broadswords 
of his Highland troops, " sheath your weapons." 

" Where ? " asked the fiery duke. " Where, my 
prince ? In their cowardly carcasses, and thus let 
out their base and craven souls ? The English say 
that those of our nation are cold and heartless. They 
should know that the mountain breezes carry on their 
wings, fire to the soul. Well, if we are cold, we are 
keen ; aye, as these our good and true weapons, which 
they have, at times, tried, if I mistake not." 

" They belie you, and that they know full well. 
My Scottish troops — gaze upon them — are furious: 
a word will fire them, and a thousand will fail to ex- 
tinguish the flame. Nay," he added gently but 
firmly, "sheath your swords in their scabbards, — in 
their scabbards. The inhabitants are loyal." 

The last words, accompanied as they were by the 
sudden sinking of the swords into their scabbards, 
called forth a long and loud shout from the gazing 
multitude, though they perceived that at the sound 
of the bagpipe, the soldiers often placed their, hands 
upon the hilt of their swords, as if they could, with 
difficulty, refrain from drawing them. The streets 
were all lined with spectators, the most of whom 



174 / THE PROPHETESS 

seemed to have forgotten their loyalty to the reigning 
sovereign. The Chevalier dismounted from his steed, 
and marched on foot. Many a fair dame threw pity- 
ing looks upon his form, and, struck with admiration, 
silently implored a blessing, and full success upon his 
romantic endeavours ; and as the hand played merrily, 
" the King shall have his own again," they chorused 
and encored it, with fond eyes, and waving handker- 
chiefs. He gallantly bowed to them as he passed on ; 
and thus sent many a beautiful creature home, to 
dream of him, and when she awoke, in the intervals, 
to wet her pillow with tears, and pray for his safety. 
Roses were thrown upon him, from some of the 
terraces ; he stooped to pick them up, but they were 
faded, for they were summer flowers, and had been 
gathered under the setting sun, many months before, 
and he sighed as he thought of his own fortunes. 
But this did not prevent him from kissing his hand 
in return, to those who had showered them down, and 
they, of course, thought that they were much sweeter 
roses themselves ; and perhaps they were. The crowd 
enthusiastically cheered him all the way. 

" Athol, will they be as ready to give me assistance 
by money, as they are to proffer their cheers ?" asked 
the prince. 

" We give our blood/'^feplied the duke. " We 
place our heads as your stepping stones to the throne, 



AND THE REBEL. 175 

which is your rightful seat ; and shall not Englishmen 
give their money ? Appoint a few of the brave men 
under my command, as beggars, and trust me, that 
swords and dirks in their hands, will levy something 
considerable. Steel can find its way through coffers, 
and, without much ceremony, enter pockets. Can it 
not ? " and the chieftain smiled darkly. 

" A freebooter still, Athol, although you have left 
your native glen and castle. When shall I be able 
to make thee a courtier ? " 

" When I shall assist to make thee a king. Nay, 
noble prince, frown not upon thy humble and trusty 
subject. I am a little chafed. Nevertheless, is it not 
my duty to assist in making thee a king ? " 

" Thou hast, indeed, a true heart," answered the 
Chevalier, " though thy manners are not exactly so 
faultless, and may, with much advantage, be reformed 
and amended. Nay, frown not in turn. Montrose, 
are we yet within sight of our palace ? " 

The marquess, thus addressed, stepped forward, and 
having paid his marks of reverence, replied, — 

" Yes, noble prince. The hundred of our troops, 
who arrived yesterday in Manchester are now sur- 
rounding it, waiting for your presence." 

It was exactly as he said. In Market-street they 
stood around the house *<of one Dickenson, which 
was thus converted into a palace, and afterwards went 



176 THE PROPHETESS 

by the name ; though now it has fallen so low as to be- 
come an inn. It had been given out that quarters 
and accommodation would be required in the town 
for ten thousand men, but now it did not seem, 
after they were all drawn up, that there were more 
than six thousand. Amid loud and hearty acclama- 
tions, the prince and the leaders entered the palace, 
while some of the troops kept station and guard with- 
out, and the others dispersed themselves over the 
town, after they had seen that the pieces of artillery 
were in safe keeping. 

The house of Dr. Dawson, who had, lately, 
altogether retired from the duties of his profession, 
stood in a quiet and remote part of the town. Alice 
was almost dying, through curiosity, to receive the 
latest intelligence. But she could only observe others 
running to know, and none coming to tell, her about 
the Pretender, and his entry into Manchester ; and this, 
certainly, was sufficiently provoking for a young lady. 
James, her brother, had gone out early in the morn- 
ing, and had not returned, so that she had no one to 
fret and teaze, but her father ; and he was, alas, rather 
an irritable toy, for a young lady to sport with. 

" Alice, you are restless and fatigued in my com- 
pany. Get thee to thy looking-glass, you are never 
weary of being there." 



AND THE REBEL. 177 

" It has a more pleasant face than you have, dear 
father, when you frown/' playfully returned Alice. 

' i There, there, — my children accuse and rebel 
against me ! No matter, their father is old and in- 
firm. I must bring them up, support them, only to,, 
listen to their impertinence and disobedience. Would 
that God had made me childless, or that he had 
made my children blind or dumb ; or had given them 
a golden portion each, to support them. Oh ! you 
look pretty in tears, Alice, — quite irresistible, upon 
mine honour. But do not waste them, they are so 
precious. Pray reserve some : it will be prudent, 
Alice, they will all be in good time when you get a 
lover ! " 

" Would that he were come ! " peevishly exclaimed 
Alice, " and I should run off with him, at any hour 
of the night, and to any place ! " 

" What ! without looking in at my bank notes ? 
Eh ? Oh ! mistress Alice ! And there's your 
brother — what can he do?" 

" He can leave home, and I cannot." 

" Yes, he has left home," said the old man, now 
beginning to be affected. " And where is he ? " 

" Ah ! dear father, should he have joined the cause 
of the Pretender! Oh! how you would repent of 
the harsh words you have often spoken to him." 

" Dear Alice, / do repent already. Come and kiss 



178 THE PROPHETESS 

your harsh, old father. Look upon the face that you 
confess to be less pleasing than your looking glass. 
Ah, Alice, you are a sly girl." 

They at length became impatient, when night came 
|gn, and still, James was absent. They had heard the 
public crier announce that a general illumination of 
the town was to take place, and Alice thought that 
her brother might have appeared to assist in the ar- 
rangements. And now, when lights, many and bril- 
liant, arose in the opposite windows, and crowds were 
passing in the streets, she proceeded, with a heavy 
heart, to give directions to the servants, and then 
anxiously sat down at the casement of her own apart- 
ment, not to view any object — save James. Private 
disappointments, however small, and in themselves 
contemptible, are fretted by public rejoicings ; and 
as the bells rung out a merry peal, and music walked 
the streets, she only felt her loneliness the more. A 
knocking was heard at the door, and Alice flew down 
herself, to open it, and admit her brother to a well 
spiced scolding ; if not (she was in doubts) to a more 
violent demonstration of her feelings. 

It was Katharine Norton, who had come to enjoy 
the company of her friend, as her maiden aunt had 
been so busy in asking questions at her servants, re- 
lative to the Pretender, his dress, and his general 



AND THE REBEL. 179 

appearance, that she had entirely deserted the parlour 
for the kitchen, and her niece was thus left alone. 

They spoke of James, although Katharine occa- 
sionally paused, and introduced some other subject, 
lest he might arrive in the midst of their conversa- 
tion ; and she too well knew, that her mischievous 
companion would not scruple to inform him of its 
nature and subject ; but he came not. 

" Katharine, what can we do to know where he is ? 
He is not well, or it is not well with him. Something 
must have happened. Katharine, c Beivare of the 
Cockade ! ' The prophecy now rises to my mind. 
It must be true. I feel that it is. My brother is 
ardent, and romantic ; and often has he expressed his 
sympathy with the unfortunate house of Stuart." 

Servants were sent forth to obtain some information 
concerning James, and the causes of his strange ab- 
sence. They returned, only to tell their disappoint- 
ment. No one had a tale — save the old clock, which 
numbered the minutes and the hours ; and although 
the minutes seemed to move slowly, the rapid flight 
of the hours was surprizing. The loud shouts of the 
crowd broke in upon the silence ; and the heavy 
tread of her impatient father, in the adjoining apart- 
ment, fell upon the ear of Alice, but mournfully. She 
led her companion into her brother's study, and 



180 THE PROPHETESS 

playfully threw his dressing gown over Katharine, 
that she might behold a diligent student : but as she 
met her own gaze in a mirror opposite, she knew that 
she was but counterfeiting mirth and happiness. She 
placed before her Newton's Principia, and requested 
a display of philosophy and learning, to support the 
great principle therein developed, c that every particle 
of matter is attracted by, or gravitates to, every other 
particle of matter, with a force inversely proportional 
to the squares of their distances.' " Oh ! " she ex- 
claimed, as she seized upon a letter or two, concealed 
in the pages, in which was the hand- writing and sig- 
nature of her friend, " so, my brother wishes to trans- 
plant beautiful flowers into such barren fields, that 
when he is puzzled with problems and themes, he 
may be refreshed with questions, and pretty soft con- 
fessions, which he finds no difficulty in understand- 
ing ? Blush, Katharine, and close the volume." 

" It is beyond my comprehension, Alice. I have 
no desire to be a literary lady, to nib my quill for 
poetry, and glancing up to the ceiling for inspiration, 
commence to abuse the innocence of paper ; indeed, 
I am not certain whether my patience would extend 
to the act of counting my fingers, through the length 
and breadth of a sonnet." 

" Ah, Katharine," returned Alice, with an attempt 
at mock pathos, " you are insensible of the pleasures 



AXD THE REBEL. 181 

which a young lady feels when engaged in literary 
pursuits. The pen in her hand, is the fair fan with 
which she cools the fervid snow of her imagination and 
affections. How interesting she appears when she 
has the requisite strength of mind to banish toys, 
silks, and dresses, and introduce on her dressing table 
nothing but long rolls of manuscript ! She dreams 
not of soft whispers, sweet glances, and handsome 
lovers ; but of that nice ode, that subhme epic, or the 
passionate drama, which she made yesterday. She 
rises to stare at the sun, frighten the flowers, and 
overflow the very Thames with ink, on paper. Or 
should she be an astronomer, how becoming for a 
young lady to use a telescope, instead of a quizzing 
glass ! " 

She then searched the desk, and discovering some 
rude drafts of verses, addressed to " a lady," inquired 
of Katharine whether she had yet obtained a fair copy 
of them. For a time she was as mischievous as usual ; 
but all her sport was evidently feigned. In the midst 
of it, at length, she became silent, and snatching up 
a light, hurried to the clock, and instantly returned 
pale and breathless. 

" Katharine ! " she exclaimed, while she grasped 
her hands, " it is but a few minutes from midnight ! 
He has become a traitor to his home and his 
country. I have stopped the clock, that whenever he 



182 THE PROPHETESS 

returns, it may not disgrace him. Near midnight, and 
he absent, — and at such a time, when all our fears 
are excited by rebellion ! " 

Her companion, who was, naturally, of a firmer 
and more heroic cast of mind, attempted to console 
her, although she needed one to perform the same 
kindly office for herself. 

" Nay, dear Alice, your brother is loyal." 

" Is that loyal ? " she returned with a shriek, as her 
eye glanced over some of her brother's papers, where 
the Pretender's name was mentioned in glowing 
terms of admiration. " I knew it. James has long 
admired Prince Charles Edward, and frequently, 
when no subjects but those nearest to our hearts have 
been introduced, he has spoken so feelingly of the royal 
youth's exile in France. When the news of his 
landing in Scotland reached us, an involuntary. excla- 
mation escaped James, and he prayed for his safety, 
aye, even for his success. Nay, I cannot divine any 
other motive for his absence from the University, than 
to obtain leisure to watch the progress of the Prince, 
and, at a fitting time, to join his standard. But hush, 
let us be cheerful, for I hear my father's footsteps, 
and he is impatient at my brother's absence." 

The old man entered. Katharine Norton rose to 
meet him, and he addressed her kindly, as was his 
wont. But the smoothness of his manner soon dis- 



AND THE REBEL. 183 

appeared. In person, Dr. Dawson was tall and thin, 
though very much bowled down by age, but now his 
form became erect. He had a lofty forehead, on 
which a few white locks were sprinkled. His hands 
were palsied, but now, by the strength of his feelings, 
they were nerved, and he stood forth, firm and col- 
lected. He had dark eyes, which had not lost the 
fire of his youth ; and which seemed to become 
brighter and brighter, by looking at his gold. He 
was not altogether a miser, for he, as we have already 
stated, loved his children occasionally, and even dis- 
played bursts of tenderness and affection ; but his idols 
must be of gold, as well as of flesh and blood. Ever 
since he was married, pretty fingers must have gold 
rings, before he could admire them, and in his pro- 
fession, he had often been prevented from feeling the 
pulse for some time, so much absorbed was his atten- 
tion by the diamonds which glittered. 

After addressing Katharine, he turned to his 
daughter, " Alice, where is your brother, has he not 
returned yet? I must wait for him, considerate 
youth, although these aged limbs should long ere 
now, have been reposing on my couch ! I have no 
staff but this cane, and money bought it. Money can 
-do any thing but make children obedient, except to 
close a parent's eyes, and that they gladly attend to. 



184 THE PROPHETESS 

Come, affectionate youth, and see me die ! " and he 
laughed hysterically, in scorn and anger. 

The two ladies supported and caressed him fondly, 
compelled him to sit down, and almost smothered him 
with kisses. The old man could not forbear smiling. 
"Ah, innocents, you would sooner heap them on 
my son." 

" Nay, dear father," returned Alice, in a merry 
tone, " a different treatment from us awaits him, when 
he arrives." 

Her father heard her not, for he had relapsed once 
more into a fit of passion, and he walked across the 
room, stamping violently. 

" And I must totter on my cane, at my kind son's 
inclination, and he must dance so merrily, to give me 
pain. Oh ! how fondly he is now speaking to his 
fair partner, and doubtless requesting her not to allow 
herself to be too much fatigued. He takes her to a 
recess, lest she be weary with the dance ; but his 
poor old father must watch for him all the night. It 
matters not how weary I be. No, no, I do my son 
wrong, great wrong. He wishes me to be at rest, — 
in my grave. How kind ! Nay, daughter, speak not 
in his favour. Hark to the sounds of revelry around 
him. Sweet they are to his ears, almost as sweet as 
my dying words." 



AND THE REBEL. 185 

He looked around the room as minutely as if he 
had anticipated conspirators and ruffians to start 
forth, at his son's commission, and take his life. He 
examined the desk, as if he expected to discover 
poison purchased for him. He trembled as he took 
out- a brace of pistols, and scarcely dared to ascertain 
whether they were charged or not. He dusted the 
books in the library, and glanced over many of the 
title-pages, as if he were certain to lay hold of a 
treatise on the duty and necessity of parricide. He 
would not allow the ladies to speak, but he harshly 
interrupted them. They seemed to be like thoughts 
in his own mind, which were unwelcome, and which, 
therefore, he had the power and the right of for- 
bidding and preventing. 

"If he should not return," he muttered as he 
paced more calmly across the room, " my executors 
will not be troubled with his name in the will, and 
this may ease the dog of a good bone ; yes, very 
prudent of the young man to stay from home, very." 

" Father ! " exclaimed Alice. 

" Father me not," he returned furiously, " or mock 
me with the name but a little longer. Oh — " and 
tears flowed down his cheeks as he went to the door, 
11 no dreams of gold to night, no money bags ; a 
halter around my son's neck, and that son a rebel ! " 

" Father, weep not. All shall yet be well with 



186 THE PROPHETESS 

James. I cannot endure these tears, you once told 
me that you had not one ; that although your hopes 
were gone for ever, you had not a tear to give them ; 
that you had not mourning apparel to attend them to 
their grave ! " 

He harshly repulsed her, and retired to his own 
apartment. 

The hour of midnight was now chiming. The 
drum and music had ceased for a few minutes, and 
the town clocks were distinctly heard ; but instantly, 
upon the stroke, the revelry in the streets commenced 
afresh, and the mob became still more noisy than 
before. The light of torches glared in upon them, 
and for a moment they hid their faces from it, as from 
something unpleasant and unwelcome. Alice started 
up, and proposed that she should lead her companion 
to their room for the night, where she promised soon 
to join her. Katharine consented, although her fears 
were so much excited, that she knew sleep to be hope- 
less and impossible. As Alice returned, she wrapped 
herself closely in a cloak, and was descending to the 
door, when she listened at that of her father's room, 
and hearing no noise or motion, entered. She be- 
held him asleep on the sofa, and his breathing was 
difficult. A table was drawn to his side, and on it lay 
a portrait of his son, in the character of Hamlet; 
taken when he bore a prominent part in the histrionic 



AND THE REBEL. 187 

displays of the University. It was in the scene when 
the Prince of Denmark has become thoroughly con- 
vinced that his uncle is the murderer of the former 
king, and when he glories in the idea, that by the 
players he has forced conviction into the villain's 
heart, and when his mother appears to charge him with 
his conduct towards that uncle. Her words were written 
(and the ink was not yet dry) beneath the portrait, 
" Hamlet, you have your father much offended," and 
old Dawson's shrivelled and white hand was placed 
pointing to them. This proof of affection, revenge, 
and imbecility, all mingled together, overcame Alice. 
For a moment she sunk down upon the couch beside 
her father, and gently kissed him. She then removed 
the cane from his grasp, and covered his venerable 
head. He started up in his dreams, but his eyes 
were shut. 

" My son ! oh ! will none save him. None ? Take 
my gold — yes all of it. It will forge chains as heavy 
and as long, as these dismal iron ones, which now 
bind his tender limbs ; aye the body which my own 
Helen gave me, is shackled. Take my gold, there is 
the key to my chests, ransack them, and sell me. The 
gold will make a chamber as large as that horrible 
cell ! Oh ! will none save my beautiful boy ? " 

" I will, I will," exclaimed his daughter, and she 
rushed out of the room. She summoned her own 



188 THE PROPHETESS 

waiting maid, to watch over the old man, and then she 
herself, alone, unattended, left the house to seek her 
brother through the crowd. The night was beautiful 
and clear in the sky above, and its lights were brilliant, 
yet soft ; but the illuminations of the town, threw 
their glare over all around, and completely shamed 
the stars. Not a breeze was felt, but the wafting of 
the flames. As the lights in the windows were now 
almost expiring, and pale faces were seen within, 
watching by them, — to the imagination an ominous 
fate for the Pretender seemed to be predicted. But 
bonfires were blazing in every street, and figures were 
crowding around them, and rubbing their hands, and 
dancing in extravagant mirth. The gleam of arms 
was reflected from soldiers, mingling along with the 
mob. Crowds were perpetually hurrying past, to 
behold and make other sights. Not a child, or a 
woman was to be seen ; but all were men, intoxicated 
and raging, or moving on, more helpless than infants. 
This almost served to frighten Alice, as she held her 
way through the midst of them, coming into contact 
with the rude touch of daring strength, or the feeble 
clutch of old age ; yet none interrupted her, save to 
stare upon her earnest countenance, so young, beauti- 
ful, and innocent. Many even seemed disposed to 
join and escort her to the place of her destination, 
wherever that might be. Some rather loud whispers 



AND THE REBEL. 189 

were heard, asserting that she must be a friend of the 
Pretender, proceeding on the errand of blessing, and 
cheering him, on his dangerous expedition. Still she 
moved on, apparently indifferent to every thing which 
might otherwise have been annoying, when some one 
gently took her by the hand. Suppressing a shriek she 
started back in terror. But it was a young female 
who had ventured upon such a liberty, and Alice im- 
mediately recognized the young and blind Prophetess 
of the vale, who said in a quick but low tone, — 

" I cannot, young lady, see your face, but your 
hand is feverish, and your heart is throbbing. And 
the hour is so late, and the street crowded. Yes, m) 
prophecy will be fulfilled." 

Alice felt that it would, as she listened to her voice, 
and gazed upon her face. Her features seemed alto- 
gether to have lost their happy expression. They 
were still sweet ; but clouded, and sad. " This light," 
she resumed, " is not pleasant. It is not that of moun- 
tain, vale, and stream. Ah ! I heard the young 
chieftain's step, so gallant, light, and free ; but the 
cockade waved over his head. Royal was his voice, 
for I knew something of courts, in another clime. And 
your brother? — you are now in search of him. I 
need not inquire. Darkness and death are around 
all his relations. Start not. He is a rebel, and now 
pledges, in the presence of Charles Edward, his alle- 



190 THE PROPHETESS 

giance to the family of Stuart. Oh, why should I 
know names and events ? Happy I was, when life for 
me was but to think and feel. But fair one, come on, em- 
brace your brother once more, Come," and she almost 
dragged the sinking Alice forward, to hasten her steps. 
They soon arrived at the Pretender's palace, but it was 
guarded by a close band of Highland soldiers. They 
made a passage however, for them, when Alice shortly 
explained the purpose of their coming. 

" Ay fair lady," said one " step in, your brother is 
now Captain Dawson, and a brave and gallant South- 
ern he is." 

" It is true then ! " Alice exclaimed with a shriek, 
while she hid her face in her hands, " he is a traitor 
and we are all ruined." 

" A traitor ! " fiercely exclaimed a kilted mountaineer, 
whose fiery eyes peered through his shaggy eyebrows, 
as he rudely grasped her with his left hand, while 
his right sought the deadly weapon — "Be canny, 
noo, my leddie, lest Tonald's tirk may pe seeking te 
right side o ' te question. Tat pe te way tat Englishers 
speak of der lawfu Sovereign, tat day must call his 
gude friends traitors ! " 

Alice Dawson looked unmoved upon the specimen 
of barbarous brutality. Her eye gleamed indignantly ; 
which the Scot observing, drily rejoined, by taking 
his hands from off her and saying, " Is she after wish- 



AKD THE REBEL. 191 

ing to frighten Tonald ? Hech, Lech ! She carina 
tak te preeks off te Heelandman : and faith Tonald 
canna tak them off her." 

" She's a traitoress," exclaimed one of the Low- 
landers, whose face might have been mistaken for a 
smoke-dried ham, for he was the only ill favoured 
soldier in the company. 

" Hold," thundered forth one of their leaders, who 
came out from the palace, and his fiery eye rebuked 
the rude soldiers, who had gathered round to support 
their comrades, in whatever they might be pleased to 
do, against the unprotected Alice, and her companion ; 
" cowards, to attack and frighten a lady ! It would be 
gallantry," he added, turning to .the Lowlander, " were 
you to show your back to a lady, and conceal that 
face of yours. She would excuse you, for in your 
case it would not be considered as a breach of manners. 
Manners ! but what know you of manners ? Fail* lady, 
my sentinel informs me that you seek your brother, 
who is a captain in the Manchester regiment, this day 
enlisted, as volunteers, in the Prince's cause. See, 
they make a way for you. Step in." 

The young soldier who spoke, was Hector McLean, 
a leader of the north, and one of the many Scottish 
gentlemen of rank, who, for their ready attachment to 
his cause, had been knighted by the Pretender. The 
accent of his country was slightly perceptible, and 



192 . THE PROPHETESS 

there was something so friendly in his voice, that 
Alice halted, to obtain some further information con- 
cerning her brother, or some directions by which she 
might be guided to him ; and her companion, who had 
been altogether silent, seemingly absorbed in her own 
thoughts, did not nrge her on. But as her eyes fel' 
upon the handsome form of the knight, so martial ir 
his bearing, although but of slender proportions, she 
blushed deeply, and half repented that she had not 
forthwith entered. He doffed his bonnet, gallantly, 
and respectfully, as she stood before him, — announced 
his name, and offered her his services. " Fair lady, 
you appear to have been in tears. Are they shed 
for your brother ? Think not by any eloquence, aye, 
even that of affection, to turn him from his purpose, 
and make him insensible to his duty. His sovereign 
has a claim prior to his sister. And could you de- 
prive the brave Chevalier of a hope of victory ? " 

" He has left an aged and infirm father," sobbed 
Alice, " and we are unprotected. He himself is not 
inured to war, for the cloisters of a college have been 
his only camp. Oh ! gallant knight," and she looked 
up, with a countenance, as innocent and artless as it 
was mournful, " entreat my brother to return ! " 

" I must deny you," he gently replied. " The 
captain is an acquisition, and already has gained the 
confidence of the Prince. Your fair brow, may be 



AND THE REBEL. 193 

soon encircled with honours, won by your brother, 
from a grateful master. When you have seen him., 
you shall return home, and pray for his safety, and 
that of the Prince." 

As he spoke, Alice felt her companion shudder. 
The young Prophetess knelt down, and muttered 
some words in a low, but wild tone, ilising up, she 
drew Alice closer to her, and madly exclaimed, — 

"Almighty One, keep her alone, join not their 
fates — but ah ! it cannot be ! Brother and lover will 
ruin her, and death, death is her lot. The poison is 
to lurk in every sweet rose, for you. I know it. 
And she, the beautiful one, your companion in the 
vale, now too must see her dream vanish. Oh, their 
heads mount the poles in the public streets. I can- 
not see them ; thank God, yours shall be spared such 
scorn, but languid for many a night shall they lie on 
the pillow, and then, they must find rest in an early 
grave." 

She twined herself around Alice, kissed her cheeks, 
and wept. 

The chieftain stood silent and astonished, not being 
able to comprehend the scene ; but Alice trembled, 
and almost sunk to the ground. He placed her hand 
within his. " Come, and you will straightway have 
<an interview with him. He is now closeted with th« 



194 THE PROPHETESS 

Prince, and his officers, consulting together upon 
some military plans." 

They entered : — the inside of the palace was 'fitted 
up with great magnificence ; and the spacious hall of 
audience was adorned with portraits of the Stuart 
family, on which the lights were gleaming brightly, 
and but for the gilded and embossed frames, they 
might have been mistaken for the living sovereigns, 
who, by nature, were endowed with the highest 
talents to sway an empire, but whose imprudence and 
licentiousness expelled them from the throne. The 
beautiful Queen of Scotland shone forth with a loveli- 
ness which none but a royal old maid and prude, could 
have doomed to death. She, who had been the wife 
of three husbands, still seemed to have more love 
and affection in those bright features, than the Holy 
Virgin of England, who never had a lover. The 
first Charles was painted there, as he stood on the 
scaffold, and his eyes were raised joyfully from the 
block, to see, in vision, the crown of heaven, which 
no weapon could take from the Lord's annointed. 
The light threw a beautiful longing of immortality 
over his features. At the further end of the hall, 
hanging from the ceiling to the floor, was a green 
silk curtain, behind which was the door leading to the 
Chevalier's apartments. This was the only screen 



AND THE REBEL. . 195 

from the face of royalty. Sir Hector, however, led 
Alice through a sliding, at the right wing, and stood, 
for a little, opposite to a door, above which were the 
Prince's arms. At that moment it opened, and 
Charles Edward, with young Dawson, appeared. 
The latter rushed into the embrace of his sister. 
She beheld the uniform, and her hand was upon the 
sash by which he was belted, still she clung fondly 
to him, although she could not utter a word. Sir 
Hector McLean gave the Pretender an explanation ; 
who, stepping up, gently took the hand of Alice. 

" Lady, bless your brother, and the cause he 
supports. Blame him not; you cannot call me a 
rebel, and he must, therefore, be loyal. Captain, 
comfort your sister." 

" And who shall comfort thee ? " sadly asked the 
blind child. " Oh, never, never, can you mount the 
throne." 

" Who is she ? She is pale for me and my woes. 
See, the tears are trickling down these cheeks. 
Perhaps blood, the blood of my friends, may flow 
freely in my cause. God knows that my own heart 
is sad, even for a tear on the face of another, for my 
sake. But hark, my leaders are gay in the dance ! " 
So kindly did the Prince soothe the feelings of Alice, 
that when he retired, she was prepared even to give 
comfort to her brother, when he spoke of Katharine. 



196 THE PROPHETESS 

Slie could not, however, persuade him to accompany 
her home, and obtain their father's forgiveness, and 
Katharine's blessing. 

" I dare not. I could not leave you all alone and 
unprotected. How could I part from you, in the 
home of our past life ? I must see Katharine once 
more, but not there. But you, oh, what dangers 
you have undergone this night for me, Alice •! My 
heart breaks, awful forebodings creep over my soul, 
at the sight of this blind girl. I dare not see you 
home, and yet, to expose you — 

" Nay, captain," kindly rejoined Sir Hector, " I 
should feel honoured, would your fair sister accept of 
my protection." 

te Thanks, my noble friend ; watch over her. The 
clock strikes the hour of one. Sleep, Alice, and 
'think not of our woes. We shall meet again in 
happier times. One more embrace, dear girl ; give 
my love to Katharine, and my obedience to my 
father. I ,may see them before Jthe Prince leaves 
Manchester. Farewell. Sir Hector— " 

te Say not a word, captain. I shall guard her as I 
would the Chevalier. Now, fair lady," — and he 
almost dragged her from the arms of her brother. 

As they reached the door, she looked round for her 
companion — but she was gone ! 

When his sister left him, Captain Dawson in vain 



AND THE REBEL. 197 

sought comfort in the room where all the officers 
were assembled for mirth and the dance. His spirits 
were sunk, and into every bright scene which hope 
conjured up, his aged parent and his unprotected 
sister entered, and stood looking upon him, and yet 
he could not approach them. He believed, however, 
that to his country he was not acting the part of a 
traitor, for he wished to restore to it the descendant 
of its ancient rulers. Sometimes, too, the quiet 
retirement which he had formerly enjoyed within 
the cloisters of the college, arose to his mind, and 
now, when surrounded by arms, with the glory of 
strife before him in all probability, the arts of peace 
appeared more noble and worthy of attainment. He 
retired to the apartment which was assigned to him ; 
but there, grief almost reached the point of delirium, 
and the young soldier wept on his pillow. He heard., 
a knock at the door, and then Sir Hector McLean 
entered. 

" Hast thou seen her home in safety ? Oh ! Alice, 
I have broken your heart, and murdered- my father ; 
aye, and myself, and my own Katharine too ! Could 
I stay for months at home, to watch this opportunity, 
and mutiny against the peace of all whom I love ! " 

"Your sister," was the reply, "is safe in her 
father's house, nor is her anguish so wild as when 
you saw her. She fondly believes (and may it prove 



198 THE PROPHETESS 

true, Dawson,) that soon the strife shall be finally 
settled ; and then comes the soldier's home, after all 
his hardships and dangers ; then come tears of joy, 
so different from those at parting for the present." 

Young Dawson took the hand of Sir Hector, and 
pressed it in gratitude. He was almost deceived for 
a time, it felt so like the touch of Alice, and when he 
mentioned this, his friend laughed, and said, — 

" Perhaps I may have held her pretty hand within 
mine so long as to catch its virtue. Nay, let not a 
suspicion cloud thy brow, I would not pay one act of 
unmeaning gallantry, to betray ; you do me wrong, 
Dawson. Yet, how beautiful she is ! " 

" Beautiful ! " exclaimed Dawson, as he sprung 
from his couch in madness. " And must I listen to 
hea^my sister called beautiful, by a soldier ? If thy 
craven soul has dared to breathe one word of lawless 
feeling to mine Alice, tell me — and let us choose our 
weapons." 

As he spoke, he moved to the table on which his 
sword lay unsheathed, and passing his hand hastily 
over its edge, put himself into a posture of attack and 
defence. But McLean's sword still hung by his 
side, and his hand was stretched forth in friendship. 
And yet, at the first movement, his eye had flashed, 
and his right foot had been violently placed in ad- 
vance, for the combat. 



AXD THE REBEL. 199 

" Dawson/' he said, in a solemn tone, " you force 
me to reveal to you what, perhaps, I ought to disguise 
at present. Could I put that hand to the hilt of my 
sword, against Captain Dawson, when it has been 
pledged in fondest love to his beautiful sister? 
Beautiful I must call her — keep off, and hear me 
out. Will you compel me to draw ? I had a sister, 
fair as Alice Dawson, but she died in a warmer chme, 
amidst the breezes of Italy. Had she lived, I should 
have watched over her as suspiciously as you protect 
Alice. But I am true. Is there falsehood in my 
countenance? Believe me; for with you I can- 
not appeal to the sword to support my veracity." 

The anger and fury of young Dawson had fled. 
He knew that Sir Hector's oath was that of a chieftain, 
and he was certain that Alice would be L happy. He 
coloured highly, threw his sword upon the couch, and 
embraced him as a brother. Long did they speak of 
Alice and Katharine; and the two young soldiers 
unbosomed every thought to each other, and dis- 
closed their respective arrangements. McLean agreed 
to be a message-bearer to Dawson's house, and 
to Katharine Norton; for the captain dared not 
visit them. He left his companion to rest a little 
before day break. 

Just about the same time Dr. Dawson awoke. The 
object of his dreams had been James, and his first 



£00 THE PROPHETESS 

waking thought was concerning him. But all was 
dark in the room. He only knew that his children 
were not near. His memory failed to tell him 
whether James had returned. In the morning there 
is something cold and blighting in fear, for all the 
powers of the mind are more awake to it. He started 
up at the earliest gleam of light, and shuddered, as he 
saw, for the first time, that he had slept on a sofa. 
In all his affectionate thoughts of his children, he did 
not forget self; and he cherished it, in general, with 
a regimen, the strongest which his profession could 
provide or sanction. 

" Death, death ! " he exclaimed, " my children 
make me to commit suicide, by sending me, grieved 
and senseless, to my couch, to my sofa. My obedient 
son, — many thanks to you, dear James ; dear James, 
many thanks to you.. Oh, dear and loving he is to 
me ! " 

But in the midst of this invective he paused, as his 
eye met the portrait of his son. He hurried on his 
clothes, but his palsied hands were feeble and slow. 
His daughter came not, as was her wont. He looked 
out from the window,. upon the street, and how still, 
compared with the revelry of the last night ! There 
was scarcely a wreck of it. The fragments of wood, 
black, and half consumed, strewed the streets. These 
had been bonfires, a few hours before, and. now, a few 



AND THE REBEL. 201* 

miserable and poor wretches were gathering them 
up, to carry them to a home, where there was little 
comfort blazing from fuel. The doctor closed the 
window, and violently threw himself down on the 
sofa, and cursed all whom he knew. He arose, and 
silently proceeded to the door of his daughter's apart- 
ment. He heard no noise. He knocked, and in- 
stantly his daughter's voice was heard ; when he 
knew that she was well, he stopped not to speak to 
her, but in anger traced his steps again to his own 
room. He had not closed the door behind him, when 
Katharine Norton came in, He was always kind to 
her, and taking her by the hand, led her to 'a seat. 
Her raven tresses were hanging over her cheeks, 
and her voice trembled. She attempted to divert his 
thoughts from James's disappearance — for she dared 
not reveal the awful truth — and for- a time she suc- 
ceeded*. He even jested, playfully with her, and 
asked her to name the day when she would become 
his beautiful and dear daughter-in-law. He took her 
hand, and begged to know by which of the pretty 
fingers James had protested to love her. 

In a little, Alice appeared. She was pale, but 
occasionally her cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled 
with some emotion, to which, hitherto, she had been 
a stranger. She seemed more absorbed in thought 
than usual, and her lips moved, tremulously, as if she 



202 THE PROPHETESS 

were speaking to herself. She thought of her 
brother, and the thought spread a pallor over her 
features. She thought of her lover, and blushed. 
She ran to embrace her father, but concealed her 
face in modesty, lest he might read, and be an inter- 
preter of her heart's fond love, which, she knew, 
was as strong, and would be as lasting, as it had been 
sudden. Her father repulsed her. 

" Good child," he said in mockery, " I am obliged 
to you for this soft, soft couch. Do you see the 
thick coverings which have oppressed these limbs ! 
Oh ! how warm they kept me ! Give me your hand, 
Alice, what a good and loving child to her old father. 
James, too, — " 

" Father," interrupted Alice, in a quick and almost 
angry tone, " you may mock me, but you shall not 
mock my brother. Does a young soldier, far from the 
comforts and happiness of a domestic life, and ex- 
posed to hardships, danger, and death, need to be 
mocked, even by an old man? "Would you mock 
our James, should he be brought to a gibbet ? " 

" Soldier ! — young soldier ! " exclaimed her father 
in mad phrenzy, " my James a soldier ! Oh God ! 
be merciful ! " and he knelt, " Forgive all mine un- 
kindness to the children of my Helen ! A soldier ! 
Alice ! " and he fell down, apparently lifeless. Upon 
the screams of their young mistress, the servants 



AND THE REBEL. 203 

rushed into the room. They, by degrees, recovered 
the old man to sensibility, but he continued wildly to 
rave about James. 

" Son, your sword is bright and gleaming. Yes, 
James, you wear it proudly. Hush, come quietly at 
night, when Alice has retired to rest. Enter by the 
pannels near to my bed. Say father, and then do 
your work. Strike home, to the very heart. Oh ! 
would it not animate your courage to behold my blood 
upon that flaming weapon ? James, you strike hard. 
Shew me that face once more, and, dear child, I will 
bless it. Wilt thou bring me the gold from my secret 
desk, that I may give it thee ? Ah, it matters not, 
you know where it is. Hush, hush, slay Alice too, 
when you have broken her heart. Twine your hand 
in those beautiful curls, and kiss that sweet and gentle 
forehead. Listen to her, as she murmurs love to you 
in dreams, and strike as she utters your name. A 
soldier ! Oh ! what a soldier can do ! " 

He glanced wildly around him. He started up, 
and all signs of age were, in a moment, obliterated 
from his face, and had left his frame. He stamped, 
and loudly ordered all from the room. 

" Bring Helen to me, I am an impatient bride- 
groom. Shall I be prevented from kissing my beau- 
tiful wife. She is mine, and who can keep her from 
me ? Helen, you are pale ! " — and he sunk down, 












V 5 ™& >. N 



V THE PROPHETESS 



^ $ dead ! Alice could not utter a tone of lamentation; 
v^ ^& She longed to weep, that her heart might be eased of 
^ v £ her sorrow, but she could not. How still were the 



V Njofty features of her father ! In his fall, not a single 
JJ ^ white hair had been disarranged, and his golden- 
S jOl headed cane was firmly grasped in his hand. What 



4 \^a melancholy sight. A dead old man, and yet a cane 
^ > to support his steps, as if he could expect that he 

•j x should once more rise, and need its assistance ! 

V ^ Alice gently disengaged it from his grasp, and put 
? her own hand in its place, and thus, for hours, sat 

\j\^ beside her dead father. 

* ^ Katharine Norton, like a sister attempted to com- 

J ' N fort her, but her terms of consolation frequently as- 
v ? v* sumed something of her own heart's sorrow, as she 
p^\£ thought of James. Yet she was too high-minded 

"V > and heroic to condemn, even in her grief, the step 
\^ £ which he had taken. 

A ^ Meanwhile the Pretender's army was again march- 

£ ^ ing through the streets, and in front of it, was the 

<S^ J Manchester regiment, under the command of Colonel 

v V Townley. The Prince, on this occasion, was attended 

o c 4 bylthe renowned chieftain, Cameron of Lochiel, who 

^s^' £ was his best and bravest supporter. His eagle eye 

glanced proudly upon all, save on his master, and his 

full muscular form, was the pride and boast of the 






X 



i < 



AND THE REBEL. 205 

clan, of which he was the head. They rode together, 
between the Scottish and English troops. The inhabi- 
tants of all the towns in Lancashire, through which 
the Pretender had passed, trembled at the sight of 
his brave Highlanders, and it is reported, that it was 
the general belief, that the bodies of infants formed 
their repast after a victory. The good people of 
Manchester, likewise, turned pale., at their fiery glance, 
and the easy and free manner in which they at times, 
w^hen any obstruction was made to their progress, 
laid their hands upon the broad-sword, while they 
placed their dirk between their teeth, thus awfully 
prepared to resist and overcome. But their fiery 
spirits, were at that time, altogether within the control 
of their young leader. They had not a glance for all 
who crowded the streets and balconies; their eyes 
when he was in view, were fixed upon the Chevalier. 
As they were turning a street, a ball whizzed by his 
horse's head, and an uproar was. excited. A detach- 
ment of troops, under Lochiel, who had spurred for- 
ward instantly, as soon as the report of fire-arms was 
heard, dashed down a lane, from which the smoke 
issued, and they returned instantly, with the assassin. 
The soldiers raised a loud howl, as if they wished to 
sacrifice the wretch, by tearing him to pieces. He 
was brought before the Prince, whose face was a little 



206 THE PROPHETESS 

flushed by the incident, but who was perfectly com- 
posed. 

" Death, death," exclaimed many a voice from the 
streets. The ladies had left the terraces, and had 
come forth among the crowd to learn whether the 
Prince was at all hurt. He gallantly thanked them 
for the interest they took in his welfare, and, all 
covered with blushes, they again ran in. He then 
glanced upon the assassin, from whose pockets a dagger 
and two charged pistols, had also been taken. 

" Poor man," he calmly said, " you are desirous of 
murdering the son of your sovereign. Soldiers, take 
him to the civil authorities of the town, and order 
them to keep him in custody, until we are gone." 

He then turned to the soldiers, and addressed 
them. " Be merciful, as well as brave. Should I 
come to the throne, as the heir of my father, I would 
grieve to think that blood had been too profusely 
shed, to receive it. My enemies offer a large reward 
for my head. But I only wish the crown, and not 
the head of George Guelph, the Elector. 

The crowd, although they had been disposed to 
condemn the poor wretch, now applauded the mercy 
which forgave him, and this, perhaps, tended more to 
warm the affections of the mass of the people to 
Charles Edward, than his true descent from the 
house of Stuart. 




AND THE REBEL. £07 

The magistrates met them, and humbly offered 
their homasre to the Chevalier. The Colonel of the 

o 

Manchester troops had been long looked up to by the 
respectable community of the town, and when he 
joined the rebel troops this exerted no inconsiderable 
influence, even over the authorities. The principal 
streets were all adorned with tokens of attachment, 
and from every house almost, colours were flying, 
and handkerchiefs waving. Music from the town 
joined the noise of the bagpipes, and the Prince was 
elated by what he considered as demonstrations of 
loyalty to his father. 

The crowd attended the Prince back to the palace, 
before which, during all the day, they stood, and 
greeted him, as he appeared at the window, and 
smiled at the Highland soldiers, who presented 
their arms. 

Early in the evening, Captain Dawson, accom- 
panied by Sir Hector McLean, was proceeding to his 
father's house. He had resolved to see him, that he 
might obtain his blessing, as the troops were to set 
out on the following day. Dressed in the Prince's 
uniform, they received much attention as they passed 
on. Dawson was well known as a young gentleman 
of great promise, and the reports which had, in some 
circles, been spread respecting him — how that he 
had left the University, where he was distinguished 



20$ THE PROPHETESS 

only for gaiety and debauchery, were not believed — 
for they had been proved to have no foundation. 
They reached the house, and were instantly ad- 
mitted. But the old servant, who opened the door, 
was unusually taciturn and sad. Katharine Norton 
was sitting with Alice as they entered. Painful was 
the interview. The Highland chieftain in vain at- 
tempted to console Alice for the loss of her brother. 

" Dear Alice," asked young Dawson, "how is our 
father ? does \he know of my conduct 1 " 
"Yes," was the reply. 

He became pale, and dreaded lest his father should 
have cursed and denounced ^him. 

u Did he— condemn me?" and he .gasped, as he 
spoke, " was he much irritated;? " 
" Yes, James, awfully agitated." 
" There, there, Sir Hector, see my folly, my mad- 
ness, my infamous cruelty, to an aged parent. But 
Alice, was he long in such a state ? " 

" No," and she. turned a look of ^concealed meaning 
to Katharine. 

" Thank God, thank God," exclaimed Dawson, 
" then Alice, is he calm now ? " 

" Calm,— so calm, he must be happy." 
" Then, dear sister, lead me into his presence, and 
give him a kiss, to induce him to grant me a full for- 
giveness. Alice, you move not, is he asleep.? " 



AND THE REBEL. 209 

<f Yes, dear James, and you would but disturb him 
in what seems to be a very pleasant sleep. But he has 
granted you his pardon ; or, if you doubt, you may 
come to morrow, to dinner, and then — " 

" Yes, Alice ; and may not Hector McLean come 
with me ? " The last words were spoken in a playful 
tone, and intended to probe, what Alice thought was 
a secret. He rallied, and endeavoured to enjoy him- 
self, and seemed to succeed. Katharine forgave him, 
and agreed to walk with him, for a few minutes, in 
the garden. He looked smilingly upon Alice, and 
by his glance attempted to hint that he knew very 
well that she did not regret to be left alone with Sir 
Hector. 

The next morning arose fair and bright. The 
birds, even in the streets, forgot the silence of winter, 
and cheered the crowded abodes of men with their 
songs, as they fluttered about the leafless trees, in the 
squares of the town. The Manchester regiment of 
volunteers was marching through the streets, to the 
sound of the drum. At their head was Prince Charles, 
attended by Colonel Townley. There was an unusual 
melancholy resting on the features of the former, 
which was increased by listening to the Scottish song 
now chanted in the streets, " Bonnie Prince Charlie." 
His pale hair fell carelessly over his forehead, as he fre- 
quently raised his bonnet, to allow the sun to fall upon 

Q 



£10 THE PROPHETESS 

his face. The smoke was not yet arising from the 
chimneys, so early was the hour ; and he thought how 
blow and idle the inhabitants were in their loyalty to- 
wards him. The colonel halted. 

66 Where, noble Prince, will you review my men ? " 
" In the church-yard/*' was the reply, " yet that is 
an ominous place, and may remind them of a fate they 
may, by and by, share. It is well, nevertheless, to 
know what our end, sooner or later, must be. The 
churchyard, colonel." 

It was nigh at hand. The graves were not crowded, 
and the Chevalier forbade the troops to violate the 
abodes of the dead, by trampling upon them. They 
drew up, and went through their various exercises in 
military discipline. As their swords flashed in the 
sun, the Prince thought what a slight chance of fortune 
these would have with the scythe of death. They were 
about to retire, when a small company of mourners 
was seen, attending a dead relative to the grave. 
They moved sadly and slowly, unlike the quick pace 
with which the troops had entered. A closely 
veiled female was at the head of the coffin. The 
Chevalier raised his cap, and desired his men to ap- 
proach, and honour these funeral rites. Young 
Dawson started, as he beheld the blind Prophetess, 
with faded flowers in her hands. He approached, — 
the veiled lady gave a shriek, and fell down on the 






AST) THE REBEL. 211 

conin. He sprang forward, drew aside tlie veil, and 
beheld his sister Alice ! He raised her from the coffin, 
and there beheld his fathers name upon it 

She had resolved to spare him the heart-rending 
news until, the war being over, he should return : and 
thus she, herself, had undertaken to attend to the 
last rites due to the remains and the memory of a 
dead father. But here, providence had determined 
otherwise, and James met his father . — foi fch e fi : 
time since his leaving home, to ask his forgiveness . — 
at the grave. He had formerly entreated Alice tc 
their father, so that he might be induced to pardon 
him, but now, what token of affection could : 
for him such a blessing And there was the young 
Prophetess, with words boding still darker ruin on 
all the family, and on Prince Charles. 

On the first of December, the Chevalier and his 
troops continued their march, and towards evening 
reached Macclesfield, with the intention of proce 
to London, and thus terminating the struggle for the 
crown in the capital of the kingdom. In a few 
however, having reached Derby, wh i a council c: 
was held, all the members, save the brave Prince him- 
self, were of opinion that, since, in all probal 
they would soon be surrounded by three a: 
only way of sa: :o rerurn : v A ord- 

against : monstrances and entrc 



212 THE PROPHETESS 

of Charles Edward, trie retreat was commenced, and 
pressed on by trie forces of the Duke of Cumberland, 
on the nineteenth, they reached Carlisle. All the 
army spent a night there, and it was resolved that 
a garrison should be left, consisting of the Man- 
chester regiment, and a few of the Lowland troops. 
• In the morning they attended the Prince to a short 
distance from the town, and on an eminence, where 
his movements might, a little longer, be seen, — halted 
to take leave of him, with tears in their eyes. The 
few Highland soldiers who were to form a part of the 
garrison left behind, approached, and knelt down, 
their shaggy heads uncovered, heedless of the wintry 
blast which raged around them, while they prayed for 
a blessing upon "Bonnie Prince Charlie." They 
seemed disposed to follow him back into their native 
mountains and fastnesses, and they turned many a look 
of envy and regret upon their more fortunate clansmen 
who were to guard his person. The Chevalier dis- 
mounted, and his tall graceful form was closely, yet 
respectfully, surrounded, in a moment, by the faithful 
mountaineers. He smiled, as they gazed in wonder 
on his kilted dress. 

" My friends," he said, " my limbs, naked though 
they be, can meet the storm. Have I not, after the 
fatigues of battle, contended with you in wrestling and 
leaping, stripped and bare ? And yet," he added to 



AND THE REBEL. 213 

himself, as he glanced at his small white hands, now 
exposed to the cold, and his half covered thighs, " the 
ladies of Paris and Edinburgh have fluttered round 
and embraced me." 

u Canna she ! " exclaimed a tall Highlander ad- 
vancing, — ' ' canna she shake te tirk in her ain land, 
for Charlie ? Fare pe te use o' keepin it be her side, 
and no kittlin te hainshes o' te enemy. Nae bluid, 
nae bluid on its shinin blade ! " 

" Here, my good fellow," answered the Prince, 
" give it to me ; it is the weapon of a true Highlander, 
and Charles Edward will be proud to strike with it 
himself. Here," and he took the dirk, and drawing 
it from his half- worn sheath, and examining some dark 
spots on it, appeared thoughtful. 

The Highlander rejoined, " Tat pe te bluid o' te 
enemy, and might she ask tat her Prince would not 
wipe it away ? " 

The Chevalier buckled it to his side, and this act 
endeared him to the Highland soldiery still more. 
But the sun was now arising on the snowy eminences 
where they stood. His officers reminded Charles of 
the long march which they had, that day, to accom- 
plish. Still, he moved not; he was wrapped in 
thought. His back was turned gradually upon his 
troops, and he made a few steps in the direction of 
Carlisle, for he cursed himself inwardly for the con- 
sent which had been wrung from him, to retreat from 



214 THE PROPHETESS 

England. In the enthusiasm of the moment, which 
was heightened by despair, he exclaimed, — 

" Why do I retreat from the throne ? There should 
have been our march; and our faces should have 
answered the questions of Cumberland. But ah ! we 
fly from him ! " 

A simultaneous shout was raised throughout all the 
ranks, but, in a moment, the chief of each clan looked 
upon his men, and the threatening look was under- 
stood; Charles drew Iris sword, and turned round, 
almost expecting that the troops were ready to fol- 
low him, wherever he might lead ; but their bon- 
nets were over their brows, and they were silent. 
He understood the cause. Lochiel and the other 
chiefs advanced, and humbly kneeling before him, 
whilst they uncovered their heads, implored him 
to think no more of England, until a fitting time, 
when he should be able to contest, with equal 
strength, in the country of the Elector. He 
mastered his feelings, and with some of his usual 
gaiety, raising his plumed cap from his head, waved 
his farewell to the garrison, assuring them that he 
would send them speedy assistance. Sir Hector McLean 
retired for a moment, in company with Captain Dawson, 
but in the midst T of their conversation, "the command 
was given to march, and after taking the last look of 
their brave companions and the Prince, the Man- 
chester regiment returned to Carlisle. 



AKD THE REBEL. 215 

There the' castle was soon invested by the royal 
army, under the command of the Duke of Cumberland. 
The garrison held out for some time, aided by the in- 
clemency of the winter, which prevented the duke 
from taking the most active measures, and cheered by 
hopes of the aid which the Prince had promised. 
But, at length, when these hopes were disappointed, 
they were obhged to surrender, upon the hardest terms, 
and Colonel Townley, and his captains, were sent to 
confinement, in London, there to await a trial for 
sedition and treason. The miseries of a dungeon 
were rendered more awful by the news of the total 
defeat which the Chevalier had sustained, in the fate 
of the battle of Culloden. The captives had held com- 
munication with their relatives, who were busy in 
making every exertion to obtain their pardon. James 
Dawson heard frequently from Katharine Norton ; 
and although her letters seemed to be written in 
tolerably good spirits, he could see the trace of many 
a tear. She encouraged him to hope, and stated that 
a mutual friend had resolved upon obtaining the 
king's forgiveness, and that she trusted much to his 
efforts. The bearer of these letters was the young 
Prophetess ; and the sight of the messenger, so sad and 
mournful, was almost sufficient to dash and cloud the 
joy of the message.. She answered no questions, 
but every time placed her hands upon his brow, and 
gave a low and suppressed shriek. Her thin and 



216 THE PROPHETESS 

emaciated features were never lighted up with hap- 
piness, even when she told Dawson of the hopes of 
Katharine. He asked her of Alice, for, lately, • she 
had ceased to write to him, but the blind girl, waving 
her hands above her head, exclaimed with enthusiasm, 

" She is well ; yes, and intercedes for her brother, 
— the beautiful and happy lady ! " 

James understood, by her motions, that his sister 
had even ventured into the presence of royalty, and 
there presented her petitions ; and he blessed her, 
and Katharine, more and more. 

The day of trial arrived, and as soon as the com- 
mission entered the court, Dawson thought that the 
countenances of the judges frowned their doom, and 
indicated a fixed resolution, on the present occasion, 
to dispense with mercy. The brutal mob without, 
were shouting for justice to the king, and the country ; 
and the crowd within were so unfeeling as to hiss the 
prisoners when they were led to the bar; but these 
hisses were answered by a calm look of contempt. 
Colonel Townley arose, and objected to a trial brought 
on by a usurper, and affirmed that it was unjust to be 
cited before a court called together by George the 
Elector. He defended himself, and his brave com- 
panions, but in vain ; for ere he had finished his 
speech, the jury retired, and soon the verdict guilty 
was returned. The presiding judge looked around 






AND THE KEBEL. 217 

the court, but a thrill of horror was expressed, for 
sympathy had been excited by the gallant appearance 
of the rebels. As he put on the black cap, Dawson, 
to shew his contempt and indifference, turned his 
back ; but presently recollecting that there were ties 
to bind him to life, he changed his posture, and atten- 
tively listened to the sentence of death. For a 
moment his firmness forsook him, as he heard the 
awful accompaniments of his execution. As he and 
his companions were being removed, the cries without 
were increased, and he caught a glimpse of a female 
form entering the court. That glimpse was enough 
to reveal to him his own Katharine ! He had not 
seen her since they parted in Manchester, but oh ! 
how sadly she was changed ! She gave a wild 
shriek. Dawson struck down the officer who had 
charge of him, and the crowd retreated and made 
way for him, as he rushed forward, clanking his 
chains. 

" My own Katharine ! " he exclaimed, as he clasped 
her in his arms, " Are we not safe together ? " For a 
moment she looked on him; but, turning to the 
judges, who had left their seats, she cried out — 

" Stay — hear me — as you would hope to be heard 
in the very moment of death. Save my James ! " 

The judge placed his hand upon the black cap, 



218 THE PROPHETESS 

and his features did not diminish the awful effect of 
such a motion. He instantly retired. 

" Heed him not," slowly muttered James, " they 
cannot separate us." 

" No, no/' returned Katharine, whose reason, for 
a time, had departed, whilst her eyes glared wildly, 
" they cannot. Put these chains around me. You 
could not break them, James. Put them round my 
neck, just there, where your arm is, and we are se- 
cure. Can they break them, when you could not ? 
Now, my love, let us go home. I told you, in my 

letter, that the day appointed for your — your 

ha ! shall I name it," and she even smiled as she 
spoke, te your execution, would be the day for our 
marriage. We are bound together. Now, dear 
James." 

The keepers approached, but they dared not to 
touch their prisoner, as his masculine form raised 
itself to ward them off. 

" Are these our friends, James ? "Welcome, — wel- 
come all ! Now for the dance. Ah, you won my 
heart in yonder recess, where we rested." 

Her dream of madness passed away for the awful 
reality. 

" You die, James ! " 

And she sunk her head on his breast, in silent 
despair. He twined his arms round her, to support 



AND THE REBEL. 219 

her trembling frame, and kissed her brow, which, 
although pale, quivered with intense emotion, and 
the large blue veins swelled on its surface. 

" A few days," he said, " and your lover is no 
more." 

The keepers took advantage of his posture and 
seized him, he was torn from Katharine, who fell 
on the floor. She awoke to conciousness, after a long 
fit of delirium, but she spoke not. She answered not 
the many kind questions, which some of the specta- 
tors put. She accepted not the invitations which they 
offered, to accompany her home. She looked wildly 
around. She started back as her eyes fell upon the 
bench, where the sentence had been pronounced, and 
where still lay the black cap. But the coachman, who, 
half-an-hour before, had set her down, at some dis- 
tance, now appeared and supported her to her carriage. 
Her kind aunt, when she reached home, watched 
by her, and consoled her with the thought that the 
friend who had gone to sue for Dawson's pardon, 
might in the end prove successful. She gently chi- 
ded her for having gone to the court, without her. 

The night before the fatal morning was beautiful, 
even in the cell, and on its grated window, a bird had 
for a moment alighted, like a messenger of hope. 
Dawson paced' up and down, absorbed in gloomy re- 
flections. He thought of Katharine, and then of 



220 THE PROPHETESS 

Alice. Henceforth, they were to be friendless and 
alone. He knelt down in anguish, and prayed for 
them fervently, as the two innocent and beautiful 
sisters. He arose, and placed his hand without the 
bars, and then, fanned his forehead. Once he had 
imagined that it was glorious to die as a martyr, for 
his prince, before all the world ; but now, the scene 
when real, and at hand, had gradually narrowed and 
narrowed, until in dying, he felt that, save two, he 
had no one to sympathise with his fate. His fellow 
prisoners spoke to him, through small apertures in 
their separate cells ; but he was meloncholy and alone. 
He heard footsteps approaching, and the heavy iron 
door turned slowly upon its hinges. A gentleman 
was admitted. 

" Oh ! Dawson, — no hope, no hope, — art thou pre- 
pared ? " 

The prisoner looked anxiously upon him who 
spoke, but as it was twilight, he could not distinguish 
the features, or the person. He was dressed in black. 
Dawson started up, and dragged him to the window. 
He gazed upon Hector McLean ! 

" My friend ! — and is it even so ? Your dress is 
proscribed ; no more that of a chieftain." 

" Speak not of me, speak of yourself. It is true I 
am in mourning weeds, and now no clan can raise 
the wail of their chieftain." 



AND THE REBEL. 221 

" How is Alice ? " quickly exclaimed Dawson, but 
he received no answer. " What ! a lover, and knows 
not of his fair mistress ; cannot speak of her, to her 
brother ! Is she well, Sir Hector ? " 

" Hush, rave not; — she is in heaven! and these 
are weeds for my wife ! " 

The deep stupor and silence of grief was over 
Dawson's soul. 

" Brother," said Sir Hector, " my only brother, 
but whom I must lose on the morrow, spend not the 
time thus. Prepare, prepare for death ! It is dif- 
ferent from the chance of war, and although we have 
left the ball for the deadly field, now let this cell be 
the auditory and penitentiary of heaven ! " 

" But tell me," exclaimed Dawson, <e tell me how 
Alice died. Yes, she is in heaven. A week ago, I 
dreamt that angel feet passed rapidly along my cell, 
and I knew that they were Alice's. Where, and 
how did she die ? " 

" I must be brief; your fate and welfare demand 
every moment for other subjects. During the in- 
terval after our retreat to Scotland, when hostilities 
were ceased, I came over to England, and Alice be- 
came my wife. I took her to a quiet home, removed 
from the seat of war, where an aged mother cherished 
her new daughter. Oh, how anxious we were, and 
o-rieved, concerning vou. She wrote to Katharine 



222' THE PROPHETESS 

Norton, and enclosed letters for you. Meanwhile, 
the royal forces drew near the Prince, and I joined 
him, at the head of my clan, on the Heath of Culloden. 
Had that battle been gained, you would have been 
free ; and believe me, Dawson, that many a stroke 
given by me, was for you. But it was lost. I fled 
to Alice. The news — but I cannot wring my heart 
by relating my woes — overpowered her. In these 
arms she died, my fair Alice, speaking to the last, of 
her brother, her husband, and our unborn babe ! 
I came to London, was received kindly by Katharine 
Norton and her aunt, and have been exerting myself 
ever since, to obtain your pardon, — but in vain. I had 
rendered some important services to one of the 
Elector's ministers, but his private feelings are sub- 
dued by other motives." 

" Bless you ! Heaven bless you for your efforts, but 
more as the husband of my Alice. But — Katharine, 
how does she endure my approaching execution ? " 

iC She hopes that your pardon will arrive, and she 
has arranged every thing for her marriage, on the 
morrow, when you are set at liberty. Oh ! how must 
I break the awful truth to her ! When I left her an 
hour ago, she was singing some of your verses. Her 
mind seems to have lost some of its power, for she 
wandered out alone this afternoon, to the Common, 
where, on the morrow, you must die, and gathered 



AND THE REBEL. 

some of tlie simple daisies., to deck her hair. She pro- 
tests that these will be all that her dear James shall 
know of Kennington Common ! " 

Sir Hector remained an hour with him, and took his 
last farewell ! 

The morning came, after a sleepless, restless night. 
Dawson attired himself in full uniform, even to the 
Highland bonnet. At an early hour the officers enter- 
ed, and led him, along with eight of his companions, 
down to the court yard of the prison. All who were 
to suffer, greeted each other kindly, but no one had 
need to cheer each other, and inspire them with firm- 
ness. For themselves, they were indifferent to their 
doom, and were prepared to meet it with the concious- 
ness of what they considered innocence in a good 
cause ; but they had relatives, and this clouded, their 
minds. Still they appeared bold and undaunted. 

" Townley," said one to the Colonel, " you were 
always, — forgive me for the hint, — fond of dressing 
your head, when it was about to pop in at the door of 
a ball room, to be inspected by the ladies. Now that 
it is to be seen more conspicuously, will you not bestow 
more attention ? There, upon mine honour, that fine 
curl has left its sweep." 

After finishing breakfast, their chains were struck 
off, and their arms pinioned. 

" Stay," exclaimed one, " give me the freedom of 



224 THE PROPHETESS 

my hands, to arrange my neckcloth, that should the 
Hanoverian Elector himself be present, I may render 
the man all possible honours. Help me to laugh 
Dawson. Captain, is my neckcloth nice ? See,— but 
here is the groom of my bedchamber, the master of 
my wardrobe, he will assist me." 

The Executioner now appeared, with the halters 
carried behind him. He was dressed in white, and 
his black and hideous face, although of a cadaverous 
hue, was a striking contrast. Although Dawson 
scorned the fear of death, yet life was dear to him for 
Katharine, and a shudder passed over his frame, as 
the executioner approached him. 

" Young gentleman," said the grim official, " your 
neck is the first for the halter. But the first shall be 
last, in order that the Scriptures may be fulfilled, and 
your heart shall be the last in being thrown into the 
flames. Ha ! ha ! " and he laughed at the awful 
blasphemy. With the greatest coolness and compo- 
sure he removed the scarf from Dawson's neck, and 
was substituting the rope, when he observed the 
golden chain, to which, was attached the portrait of 
Katharine Norton. He raised it. 

" Young sir," said he, as he attempted to smile, 
" shall I remove the miniature ? Pretty, pretty, — 
the lady smiles so beautifully upon the rope ! " 

" Touch it not, wretch," thundered forth Dawson, 



AND THE REBEL. 225 

in tones which made the barbarian tremble, and in- 
terrupted him in his chuckle. " Never/' he added, 
" shall the resemblance of her whom I love, be ex- 
posed to a profane gaze." 

" Nay," returned the executioner, " you have no 
command over it, young rebel. Your clothes are my 
property, as soon as I perform my kind offices to 
that carcase, and, of course, the miniature amongst 
the rest." 

" Shall it ! " shouted Dawson in a rage. " Never. 
Officer, remove it from my neck, and place it on 
the floor." His request was granted, and he ground 
it to atoms beneath his tread. 

The prisoners were then brought out, and placed 
on hurdles, surrounded by a body of foot guards. 
There, also, was the executioner, with a naked 
scimitar. The " dead march " was now played by 
the military, and its music was sad and slow, un- 
like that which had roused the courage of the rebels 
when they assembled under the standard of the 
Chevalier. Gradually it swelled, until, towards the 
conclusion, it died quietly away, and expressed the 
true condition of the prisoners, " who were wearing 
away to the land of the leal." Some of them gaily 
beat time with their feet, but others would not coun- 
terfeit mirth, although they needed not to counter- 
feit courage, for they all possessed it. 



2£6 THE PROPHETESS 

When they arrived at Kennington Common, they 
beheld a dense crowd, for the London mob had 
assembled, to feast on the horrid spectacle of hanging, 
embowelling, burning, and beheading. But as the 
hurdles passed them, they were quiet, and some 
words, as well as many looks, of commiseration 
greeted the prisoners. A large pile of faggots was 
heaped up close to the gallows, and as they left the 
hurdles, and entered the cart from which they were 
to be turned off, they were set fire to, and threw a 
fitful glare over the faces of the guards around, as 
well as those of the prisoners. Colonel Townley 
turned to the magistrates, who stood on a small plat- 
form, and asked whether a clergyman had been 
brought to attend to them. On being answered in the 
negative, he exclaimed, — 

" What mercy is shown to us I You are generous 
enemies ! Morgan, my good friend, read us appro- 
priate prayers, before we suffer for King James. Let 
us die, trusting in God our Saviour. It is well that 
I reminded you to bring your book." 

His fellow-sufferer began to read in a solemn man- 
ner, kneeling, and with his head uncovered. Net a 
whisper was heard among the crowd, but they stood 
silent, as if hushed by the true spirit of devotion, and 
as if the angels, whom the prisoners invoked to sur- 
round them with their fiery cars, would have been 



AND THE REBEL. 22T 

frightened away by the noise and commotion. They 
were also in the suspense of expectation, when these 
religions services should be ended, and the dread 
signal given. Then a carriage was seen rapidly 
approaching. 

" A pardon ! a pardon ! " shouted the mob, as they 
made way, at first sight. The prisoners' devotions 
were interrupted. For a moment they gazed anx- 
iously, but, as the carriage took its station behind the 
dense masses of people, their hopes fell, and once 
more they engaged in their religious exercises, but 
with paler countenances, and the reader's voice, at 
first, was observed to tremble. Dawson looked up. 
From the window of the carriage he saw Sir Hector 
gazing, and waving his farewell ; and beside him was 
his own Katharine ! A violent shuddering seized 
Mm, but, at that moment, Morgan was repeating the 
words, " Lord Jesus, receive my spirit," and now he 
felt that he had, for ever, done with earthly things. 
The signal was given by a loud shout, raised by the 
prisoners, " God save King James," and the cart was 
driven from beneath them ! 

All the other horrible accompaniments were gone 
through, and the executioner, on throwing the heart 
of Dawson into the flames, exclaimed, "Long live 
King George ! " 

The carriage was that of Katharine Norton, and 




S'^8 THE PROPHETESS AND THE REBEL. 

thus, attended by her aunt and McLean, — who had 
iailed in all their attempts to dissuade her from witness- 
ing such a scene, — she gazed on her lover's tortures to 
the last. She had seen him suspended, then stripped, 
in order that he might be embowelled ; and as the exe- 
c utioner announced that he had performed his office, 
she clasped her hands together, and meekly laying 
her head on the bosom of her aunt, said, 

" Dear James, I follow thee." 

" Not yet, my Katharine, not yet. Put your 
throbbing heart to mine, love." 

Throbbing heart ! Alas, it throbbed no more ! 
Katharine Norton was dead ! Hector McLean took 
one hand, to console her, and, as the other was placed 
upon the window of the carriage, it was seized by 
the blind Prophetess, who now appeared, strangely 
and unexpectedly, as before. 

-' Dead ! dead ! " she exclaimed. 

At that moment the shouts of the mob frightened 
the horses, who dashed furiously away; and the 
young Prophetess was left a mangled corpse ! Her 
life was all a mystery — her power of knowing the 
future, and her sudden appearance ! 



THE 



SPECTRE COACH OF LIVERPOOL. 



In one of the squares at the extremity of Liverpool, 
some sixty years ago, there resided a young orphan, 
called Elizabeth "Woodville. She had no relations 
surviving; her parents had long been dead, and an 
only brother, a few weeks previous, had, by youthful 
excesses, been brought to an untimely end. The 
latter event preyed upon her spirits and constitution, 
not only from the mere fact itself of his death, but 
also from the horrible circumstances connected with 
it. He had been conveyed home a corpse, after his 
nightly revel ; and at the moment when Elizabeth was 
dreaming of her parents, in the far off happy land, 
she was awoke to listen to the awful tidings, and view 
their confirmation in the ghastly features of one who, 
whatever, and how many his faults and crimes were, 
had always loved her. She seemed now to be alont- 
in the world, with no acquaintances save the flowers 



£30 THE SPECTRE COACH 

which her fair hands fostered every morning, and the 
tcys of her brother, when a boy, which were all col- 
lected and arranged before her. There was the 
pencil, with which he and Arthur Govenloch alter- 
nately sketched her own features, in puerile art ; 
and along with it were the silken cords which bound 
her to # seat, when she was refractory. That seat was 
still there, with the green faded cushion, and in it, 
for hours, she often sat, held by the illusions of me- 
mory. His fishing rod and basket kept their old 
places, fixed to the ceiling. Even the marbles of the 
boy had been preserved, and she thought of their 
sports in the garden, and remembered a long and 
successful chase, through amidst the trees and over 
the grass plot, into the arbour, which Arthur, fol- 
lowed by her brother, had after her, when she stole 
away their marbles. His Holy Bible, too, with the 
three names inscribed on the fly leaf, lay with its 
gilt edges ; and she pictured once more to her fancy, 
the beautiful and happy sabbath eves, in summer, out 
on the flowery lawn, when their young minds drank 
in the holy words of peace and life. She fondly hoped 
that the solemn, yet sweet truths of mercy therein 
contained, would have been so strongly impressed 
upon her brother's heart, that all the infidel thoughts 
which had latterly sprung up, and effected his tem- 
poral ruin, must have failed to uproot them. It had 



OF LIVERPOOL. £31 

never been conned by them as a task book, but bad 
always been opened by them as a holy romance of 
truth from heaven, pointing to Eden as the cradle, 
and the skies as the home, of our race ; with the 
lovely and the wise Jesus as the hero of every scene, 
reflected above or below. Her whole heart was 
among these objects of remembrance, and her happi- 
ness was in the past. She played delightfully, and 
her sweet voice accompanied the harp, but only the 
songs and hymns which had pleased her brother, and 
his friend. She often thought of that friend. There 
was only one of the dead who engrossed all her 
thoughts, and that one was her brother, even to the 
entire exclusion of her parents ; and there was only 
one of the living, and he was Arthur Govenloch. 
Since boyhood he had been in a foreign country, but 
he had never gone from the affections of Elizabeth 
"Woodville. 

It was May day, towards sunset, as she took her 
seat on the terrace. She was engaged in working a 
piece of embroidery, — a history of the family, and of 
her childhood ; and the last rays fell sweetly upon the 
names of those she loved. An unusual buoyancy had 
been imparted to her spirits, and she leaned over to 
view the sports of children, as crowned with the first 
flowers of summer, they gaily and enthusiastically 
tripped about the door. They all departed, save one 



232 THE SPECTRE COACH 

beautiful boy, who sat down beside an old statue, on 
the grass plot, and by turns, for very happiness, sung, 
clapped his hands, and shouted. He started as he 
heard footsteps near, and seeing Elizabeth, ran up the 
outer flight of stairs, leading to the terrace. She 
came down to meet him, when a stranger appeared. 
He suddenly halted, and became deadly pale. He 
turned round, for a moment, to eoneeal his agitation, 
when he heard a half-suppressed shriek. 
" Arthur Govenloch ! " 

Although many, many years had elapsed, and fo- 
reign climes had embrowned his features, Elizabeth 
recognized him. She had loved the boy, and when 
he was absent her imagination had pictured the man, 
and there stood the living resemblance, unchanged. 
•On hearing his own name pronounced, he rushed 
forward. There was a beautiful lady in mourning. 
Could it be his own Elizabeth? There was the 
same slight figure, which he had so often clasped, as 
a boyish dream, and the deep light of her soft blue 
eyes, which he had so often braved for hours, when 
lying on the grass, and could he forget it ? 

" My own Elizabeth ! " he exclaimed, " in mourn- 
ing ? But hast thou been faithful and true, as I have 
been ? There, there, that boy again. — A shudder 
passed over me, as I first beheld him here. Art thou 
the wife of another ? That boy," — 



OF LIVERPOOL. 233 

<c Arthur, I know him not, he is the child of a 
neighbour. Oh ! hast thou come at last ! Arthur, I 
-am alone. My brother is — " 

" Hush, dearest, note thou art not alone. But let 
us enter the house, where I have been so happy, and 
tell me all." 

Their love had been preserved through many 
vears. It had commenced early, and was hallowed 
bv memory, as well as brightened by hope. Inno- 
cence had lighted it, and the daring boy, and the 
gentle girl, would leave their task to romp with each 
other, but not for romping's sake^; for when the 
sport was ended, then came the soft look, the soft- 
touch, and the soft confession. Boys and girls are 
the quickest, the warmest, the holiest, and the most 
, successful lovers. The God of love plays best with 
children ; and, — mischievous urchin — when the little 
scholars are rambling about, or seated, teaching each 
other their tasks, taking hold of fingers, to point out 
letters, or words, figures, or sums, then he lets fly 
■the arrow, touching their young and pure blood. 
Such lovers had Elizabeth Woodville and Arthur 
Govenloch been, and their affection was preserved, 
warm and strong, until the present. Both wept over 
•the death of their old companion, and all his books 
were, once more, affectionately handled and looked at. 
They walked out together upon the terrace, and 



THE SPECTRE COACH 

brightly did the stars shine upon them, like the 
glorious and happy types of that future, concerning 
which they spoke. Happy were they now in each 
other, and long ere Arthur left her, Elizabeth's face 
was beautiful with smiles. She accompanied him to 
the garden gate, leaning confidingly upon his arm. 

" Elizabeth — I must introduce the custom of the 
country which I have left ; and the square is so re- 
tired, and the nights, of late, have been so beautiful, 
that I must come and serenade you beneath your 
window. But arise not ; only for a moment awake to 
listen to my lute, and then, dearest, dream of me." 

He looked upon her, and saw that she was pale. 
Her slight frame trembled. He pressed his hand 
against her heart, and it beat violently. 

H Nay, Arthur, do not." 

" I will not disturb your rest No, Elizabeth ; 
but the night is so beautiful, that I cannot refrain 
from coming to the house where my own love dwells, 
and serenading, in company with the angels, the 
abode of the beautiful Orphan. You know that I 
wont serenade you, when you are my dear little wife. 
Henry, your brother, will thank and bless me for 
coming." 

She became still paler, and leaned for support on 
the gate. 

" You are not well. Walk back to the house. 



OF LIVERPOOL. 235 

Come. Now, farewell dearest," and he fondly em- 
braced her. Her brow was cold as he kissed it, and 
she softly said, — 

" Oh ! Arthur, come not to night." 

But he thought that, although he might not sere- 
nade her, there could be no harm in passing, at the 
hour of midnight, and looking at the house, as it lay 
in the pale moonshine. For, be it observed, that 
lovers are not so very unreasonable as some represent ; 
and the mere sight of the house where the adored one 
lives, can satisfy them. 

A little before midnight, Arthur was once more in 
the street, on his way to the abode of his mistress. 
All was silent and lonely. The glare of lamps was feeble 
and sickly, mingling with, while yet distinguishable 
from, the light of the moon. The breezes blew gently, 
and carried perfumes, as tranquilizing as they were 
sweet. Few persons were abroad: and save the light 
dress of the unfortunate and the guilty, revealing it- 
self occasionally, at a corner of the street, as he 
passed, and the song of the bachanalian, coming from 
cellars, and greeting him, Arthur found nothing to turn 
his attention from the thoughts and love which he 
cherished to fche fair Orphan. All boyish feelings, 
save one, had been forgotten, and, as he trod his na- 
tive town, he felt that in it he was a stranger. But 
the brother shared his thoughts, as well as the sister, 



236 THE SPECTRE COACH 

and lie wished that he had enquired of Elizabeth 
where his grave was, that even there he might pay an 
early visit, after his return, to the friend and com- 
panion of his boyhood. He reached the lane which 
opened into the square. It was a dark, close, and 
filthy way. Trees were oh every side, but the leaves 
appeared to be beds of worms and reptiles, and a 
sharp breeze coming from the harbour, blew some of 
them against Arthur's cheek, and they were damp 
and polluting to the touch. 

Suddenly he heard shouts of revelry behind, and 
the sound of a coach starting. The whip was loudly 
urging on the steeds, and their hoofs clattered fast 
and furious. He looked back, and to his astonishment 
and terror, saw nothing. Still the noise came near 
and nearer, and at length he distinctly heard a coach 
dash past him. At that moment a loud shout was 
heard, and the whip was cracked close to his ears. 
The blood curdled within him. He could not be de- 
ceived. He ran on, and the nearer he came, he 
heard the rolling of the wheels, the pawing and breath- 
ing of the horses, the cracking of the whip, and 
even the oaths and tones of those who sat in it, with 
greater assurance. He seemed close upon it, when 
all at once it stopped, and then he found himself at 
the house of Elizabeth Woodville, and there, horrible 
to think, the Spectre Coach was waiting, unseen ! He 



OF LIVERPOOL. 237 

moved backwards and forwards, and fancied that he 
heard whispers near the place, and occasionally the 
stroke of a hoof, on the flinty road. A flavour of 
wine and tobacco was in the air around. In a little, 
the door of the house was half opened : a light and 
merry step was on the pavement, and instantly a loud 
holloo, in the tones of one, quite familiar to his ear, 
arose, and once more the coach dashed away. Arthur 
stood motionless, what could this awful prodigy mean ? 
He looked at the door, and there stood Elizabeth ! 
He rushed forward. Her eyes fell upon his form, 
enveloped in a cloak, and shrieking, she fell. He 
raised her from the earth, bleeding and senseless. He 
shouted for the domestics, and committed her to their 
care. He entered another room. In a short time, 
one of them returned, and announced that her mis- 
tress had recovered, and was desirous of speaking with 
him. 

" My young lady," she added " every night watches 
for that coach. It comes for her brother regularly, 
as usual. Oh ! Sir, would you persuade her to retire 
before the hour ? It renews her grief." 

Arthur started at these words : and truths of an 
awful nature flashed across his mind. But he heard 
Elizabeth's voice, and he hurried into her apartment. 
She sat, reclining on a sofa ; her countenance was 



238 THE SPECTRE COACH 

pale ; her eyes bright, but an expression of horror 
and wildness in them, 

" Did you not, Arthur/' she exclaimed, as she 
wrung her hands, and with them covered her face, 
" did you not hear Henry's voice, so free and merry. 
What an awful apparition of his last ghost ! I have 
gazed for months, and hoped that I would see him, 
but in vain. The tale is one of horror, and one which 
I have realized." 

She paused, and leaving her seat, went to the 
window, and listened eagerly. 

" It comes not yet no — it is not the appointed 

time, and I may proceed with the relation. But for 
God's sake, Arthur, if you hear a noise, if you hear 
the rolling of the coach, interrupt me not ! I must an- 
swer his call. Nay, rise not. I am calm, dear Arthur. 
You knew my brother Henry — None could be 
more innocent and happy. But after you left us, he 
listened to wicked men, and imbibed their poisonous 
doctrines, and Henry Woodville, the beautiful and the 
good, became a dark infidel ! In place of the Holy 
book, from which you read to us — was the accursed 
text book of the wretch, Paine. You knew that 
when he read, he placed a chair for me, and with his 
cheek against mine, invited me, laughingly, to exam- 
ine whether he read correctly. One evening, out on 



OF LIVERPOOL. 239 

the terrace,- — thus we sat down to read, and mine eyes 
fell upon the words before he uttered them ; " There 
is no God, and Christianity is all priests' fables." I 
warmly told him to throw away such blasphemy. He 
laughed, and added that it was his bible, and that he 
would sell the old one for a penny ! From step to step 
he went on, and became a drunkard and a debauchee. 
He was so entangled with companions, that he would 
not abandon their society. Still he loved me, wept as 
I wept, and said that he was sorry for his conduct, 
and then laughed like a fiend. Every night his asso- 
ciates came, in a coach, and took him away to their 
foul orgies. In the outskirts of the town, — for, 
Arthur, I have followed, though concealed — they 
lighted a fire, burned the Bible, and then drove to 
the haunts of depravity. Henry's handsome form 
became emaciated, and almost loathsome ; but I em- 
braced him more fondly than ever. His full bright 
eyes were sunk and bloodshot. One night, he 
promised to stay with me at home, and all my hopes 
revived. "What happy hours we spent ! He led me 
to my apartment, and kissed me. He even implored 
God's blessing upon me. I saw him kneel before his 
Maker. I heard him plead love for his sister, aye, 
and forgiveness for himself. I sank to sleep, over- 
powered with a delirium of joy ! And yet, Arthur, he 
deceived me. He joined his companions, and in the 



240 THE SPECTRE COACH 

coach they repaired to a vale, and there began to 
make a sacrament to the devil ! Prayers and praises 
to him were made in the midst of mirth and wine ; 
and they literally took the cup of damnation in their 
hands, and quaffed it off. They invoked the enemy. 
The inhabitants of the suburbs were aroused from 
their repose by awful noises. They went to the place 
whence they seemed to proceed, and my brother, 
and two of his associates, were found dead, and hor- 
ribly mangled. A black form was said to hover near 
them. What a corpse Henry was ! And yet, I watched 
every minute beside it, kissed the hideous lips, until 
he was taken to the grave. Every night that coach 
comes for him as usual. It is a Phantom Coach. On 
a beautiful night, it has the sound of a light coach ; 
and on a stormy one, that of a heavy coach. The first 
night after his funeral, it came. I started up, think- 
ing that his associates had resolved to insult me. I 
rushed to the window, but saw nothing. It tarried 
the usual time, and then dashed away. I heard my 
brother's voice distinctly ! I stood for hours, unable 
to move, — when it was heard returning. It halted, the 
door opened, and a light step mounted the staircase, 
close by this window, and struck against Henry's 
door. In mad phrenzy I followed, but saw nothing ! 
All his associates have died ; still, the Phantom Coach 
calls regularly upon them, and takes them to their 
place of rendezvous ! " 



OF LIVERPOOL. 241 

She again arose, and went to the window. 

The horrible tale had fallen like a nightmare upon 
the energies and happiness of Arthur Govenloch. He 
sat motionless; — when his mistress returned, and 
resumed the subject. 

'•One night — this is the anniversary of it, the first 
of May, — he went out early, and told me to admit 
him when he knocked, without delay. Long I 
watched. Mine eyes, or the bright moon, became 
pale ; and, at last, I fell asleep. In the midst of happy 
dreams I was awoke by a loud knocking at the door. 
I rushed to the staircase, and, in my hurry, fell down. 
I could scarcely arise to open the door, but my love pre- 
vailed, and as Henry entered, he struck me ! yes, struck 
his sister ! cursed my delay, and threatened worse pun- 
ishment for the next offence. This is the night when I 
should have been asked to watch for and admit him, and 
those awful words follow me ! I knew that he after- 
wards wept over his cruelty — but these words ! " 

In vain did Arthur attempt to turn away her 
thoughts from the subject, and when he failed, he re- 
quested permission to bear her company until the 
morning. Often did she express a wish that she 
could only see the coach and her brother. 

" I hear his voice, and sometimes it sounds like the 
tones of his boyhood, happy and free ; and yet, I 
cannot see him ! " 

ifc s 



242 THE ^IteCTinS COACH OF LIVEHPOOX. 

The night was far advanced, and they went to the 
window. The sky was dark and clouded. The 
moon could no longer be seen. 

" Arthur ! " Elizabeth exclaimed in a voice of terror, 
" I hear the coach ; it dashes furiously along. Nay, 
do not hold me." 

.The noise was distinctly heard ; — it became loud and 
louder. Henry's voice was above all, laughing, shout- 
ing, cursing. It halted. A knocking was instantly 
made at the house door. 

" It is my brother ; I cannot delay. Arthur, I 
must go alone. I will speedily return to you. But I 
must admit Henry. Will he give me worse than be- 
fore ? " 

She rushed out of the door as the knocking was re- 
doubled. The door opened, and the next moment a 
step was mounting the stairs. Arthur tarried for a 
time ; still, Elizabeth came not. He snatched a light, 
and when he reached the door, there she was lying 
with her head on the pavement, — dead ! dead ! 

The Spectre Coach of the Infidels, at the hour of 
midnight, stopping at their old abodes, is said still to 
be heard. Coachmen have anxiously looked before 
them, expecting to come into collision with it. Dogs 
commence to howl, and yet are frightened ; and many 
a traveller has heard, but none ever seen " the 
Spectre Coach." 



% ■ ■ 



. 



* 



THE CROSS AND LADY MABEL. 



f * THE CHRONICLER, IN THE FOLLOWING LEGEND, ADHERES 
TO THE STATEMENTS OF THE GENEALOGICAL ROLL OF THE 
BRADSHAIGH FAMILY, IN REFERENCE TO THE KNIGHTLY 
HERO'S EXPEDITION TO THE HOLY LAND. 



The banner was waving over the goodly mansion of 
Haigh Hall, on the twenty-sixth ^anniversary of Sir 
William Bradshaigh's birth, and all the retainers, 
from the scullion to the seneschal were boisterously 
enjojdng themselves, in a hearty eating, drinking, 
and laughing. On every eminence in view, small 
flags had been placed, and some of these sported 
their colours on the loftiest trees, in the adjoining 
woods. But, although much good cheer had been 
placed near these, to attract a small company, they 
were left solitary, as tokens to strangers, for all 
the knight's men were assembled at the porch of the 
Hall, quaffing the foaming goblet to his honour and 
prosperity, and to his success in his intended expe- 
dition as a Crusader. With earliest morn the appro- 
priate demonstrations had commenced, but they be- 
came more ardent and joyous towards sunset. A 
chair was then placed on the threshold, for the 






5244 | THE CROSS AND 

minstrel whose chivalrous strains were to be heard 
by all, in praise of his noble master. One burst of 
merry applause greeted him, as the aged man took 
his seat, and as he gently touched the strings to Sir 
William's glory, within, the fair bosom of Lady Mabel, 
heaved with answering sympathy. She embraced 
her children, and looking upwards, prayed that they 
might be good, and brave as their father ; and when 
Sir William joined her, she added, as handsome and 
beautiful. 

Sir William Bradshaigh, in person, enjoyed the 
aristocracy of nature, as well as of birth. His stature 
was not tall, neither was his frame muscular; yet 
not a limb, not a feature, seemed out of keeping 
with the impress of his mind. His was the true nobility 
cf face and form, and as he appeared sheathed in 
armour, with the cross embroidered on the scarf over 
his breast, he brought along with him ideas of the 
mournful and weeping spirit of Palestine, trusting to 
his arm for relief, from the scourge and the tread of 
the daring Infidel. On gazing at some persons, you 
feel convinced that they are entirely fitted by nature 
for that which has given them fame. The very 
hands, as well as the features, seem to be stamped 
with it, and the soul, visibly looks through every 
part and limb. Thus was it with Sir William. You 
could not doubt, on beholding his form, that he was 



LADY MABEL. 245 

a knight of unequalled bravery and skill, although 
young and slender. The small white hands were 
locked in those of his beautiful Mabel, but they 
seemed as well fitted for grasping the sword. 

Well might Lady Mabel be his match. The faultless 
symmetry of her majestic person, added to her raven 
tresses, and brightly glowing eye, were for the wife, 
a perfect counterpart to the husband. A meek beauty 
rested upon her countenance, which every thought 
and feeling, gently disturbed. She was naturally 
pale, and this circumstance tended to make her fea- 
tures better interpreters of her mind ; for colour, al- 
though it be the most .pure and delicate, frequently 
hides under its roses the play and change of the 
passions. She was now emerging from the spright- 
liness of the maiden, into the holy serenity of the 
matron; and as the mother of his babes, the knight 
loved her more than as his young mistress. Her 
locks were braided simply over her brow. 

" My own Mabel," said the knight, " where are 
thy jewels ? Shame on their beauties that they dread 
a comparison with the light of those eyes ! " 

" Sir William," answered the lady with a sigh, 
"would you have a widow deck herself with the 
mimicry of ^gladness ? " 

c Yes, love, in order that she may wile another to 
take away the dark veil of her loneliness." 



246 THE CROSS AND 

w 

'" Another/' shrieked Mabel faintly. " Cruel." 

" Nay," returned Sir William, " you are not yet a 
widow ; — you are my wife. Nor will I doubt your 
constancy when I am gone to the wars. These " 
embracing his children as he spoke, " are the pledges 
of your faith. But, Mabel, where are the jewels for 
your forehead ? ' Tis meet that for the banquet you 
appear among the other ladies as the most beautiful." 

" Give my brow a few kisses," replied his lady, as 
she threw her arms around his neck, " these Sir 
William, are my jewels." 

" But for thine absence, love, I would have been 
completely happy in Palestine, with all the dreams of 
its former loveliness and greatness haunting me, be- 
side its still fountains and on its heavenly hills. Could 
the breezes of the Holy Land . I fan my Mabel's 
cheek as they will do mine, there I could die. But 
we must go forth, and greet our trusty retainers. 
Ho ! hither, page, and lead my children ! " 

Lady Mabel took her husband's arm, and the page 
followed with the children. She appeared fonder 
than ever, and frequently gazed on the Cross which 
Sir William wore, with something of pride, but more 
of sorrow ; and at this, many of the retainers were for 
a moment silent, and passed a rough hand across 
their eyes, to wipe away the tears which had ga- 
thered there. But the minstrel's lay became loud 



LADY MABEL. £47 

and thrilling, and they rushed forward, with less re- 
spect than otherwise, and took their master by the 
hand. He warmly responded to this expression of 
their attachment. He passed them and wandered on 
to the highest peak on the range of elevated ground 
adjoining. Nature, too, kept her holiday, and revel- 
led in smiles. She was attired in her richest dress of 
summer. Her music, filling the air, was sweet, and 
echoed from her very throne, amidst the depths of 
the grove and vale ; and her breath was bland. Be- 
fore them, and around them were deep glens, and 
towering mountains in miniature. Ay, there seemed 
to be the miniature of the world itself; for the pros- 
pect of many counties was stretched out, and the far 
off sea, with its blue waves, leaping to the sun. 

But night's curtain fell over the scene, and to it 
Sir William then pronounced his farewell, and to 
ease his heart lifted up his youngest child in his 
arms, and fondled him playfully. 

All Was song and mirth in the evening banquet. 
The minstrel assayed his art, and ladies fair crowded 
around him, whilst Jords gazed upon their wine-cups 
unemptied,, as they listened to his strains. He played 
of the dark eyes, gazing in the pale light of the moon 
at the lattice, for the expected lover. But as he met the 
downcast and pensive eye of lady Mabel, he changed 



248 



THE CROSS AND 






his notes, and the harp tuned the following ditty to 
her praise. 



Age, quit the strings : a vesper song — all sweet, 

Not for the dance, let moonlight's spirits wake, 
With wild, yet modest touch, from snowy feet, 
As they fly o'er, with music-shells the lake 
Has coloured and atturyed, to Mabel fair, 
Sounding of happiness beyond all care — 
And let the song be given, 
To pure Reserve — the child of heaven. 

In the gay hall of dazzling light, 

There is a seat apart from all ; 
Where radiance, soothing, yet not bright, 

And music soft, so gently fall ; — 
It is the calm recess : — no nerve 

Is needed for the light, and sound ; 
Such is to love — the heart's reserve, 

Where truth and peace are ever found. 

Reserve is the heart's own home, 

Where music oft for One has swelled, 
Where the heaving bosom breathes " come," 

Although the fair hand was with-held 
From a stranger : it is the veil 

Over Love's holy temple, I wist, 
Through which no bright eyes look a Hail 

To any save to the high-priest ! 

It gives a dole to the pilgrim lone, 

And to him a threshold seat ; 
It turns an ear to his troubled moan, 

And stoops to bathe his aching feet ! 
But its sanctuary is for one, 

For one ! Sir William of Haigh Hall, 
And Mabel there leads you alone ! 

Gentles, God's blessing on you all. 



Mabel arose from her seat, and with her own hands 
poured forth a cup of the rosy wine, and placed it in 



LADY MABEL. 249 

the hands of the minstrel, as his grateful reward. 
Meanwhile, the proud dame, Sir William's mother, 
had entered. She motioned him out of the room. 
He followed her into the large winding gallery. The 
window at the eastern extremity, seemed of the moon- 
shine, and the rays minified with the dim light of the 
tapers. There were all the portraits of his ancestors, 
and their faces were turned upon their youthful heir. 

" My son," said the dame, u thou hast now to leave 
a mother, a wife, and a home, for the Holy Land. 
Gaze upon these faces of your race, whilst I recount 
the deeds for which they have heen distinguished. 
Catch courage, from the tale, and let a mother rejoice 
in her boy." 

" Mother," the knight replied, " I am my father's 
son, and I wear my father's sword ; but more, I am 
Sir William Bradshaigh ! I need not to seek, at pre- 
sent, courage from the valour of my forefathers. 
I have long known their faces, and can sum up their 
achievements. I have played here in boyhood, but, 
in their hallowed presence, never could I play with 
any thing save a sword. From all their stern array of 
features, I have turned to look upon that sweet lady, 
who, so I have heard the worthy friar say, was not 
one of our race." 

" My son, wouldst thou know her history ? But 



250 THE CROSS ASTD 

see here, Mabel has followed thee. God bless ye 
both, my children." 

" Sir William, why hast thou uncourteously left the 
feast and me ?" asked Mabel, in a fond and chiding 
tone. 

" Hush, Mabel, our mother is to rehearse the fate 
of the beautiful girl." 

He led them to the middle of the gallery, and 
pointed to the portrait of a young female. There 
was nothing but enthusiastic beauty and love, beam- 
ing on her countenance, and her bosom was ex- 
posed, after the fashion of the times. Her brow was 
noble and open, and although the ringlets were 
thrown back all around, there was nothing stern ; all 
was so gentle and sweet. Her lips seemed to open a 
promised heaven, and the moonbeams flickered around 
and gleamed upon them like the fiery cherubim at the 
gates of Paradise, to guard the sweet fruit of the know- 
ledge of good and love. There was a mingled expres- 
sion of archness and simplicity, and the bright head 
seemed to toss itself in coquetry, and deny what the 
loving eyes confessed. A light drapery covered the 
arms, to the elbow, and the under part was naked, 
whilst the pretty fingers might have been thought to 
be playing with the rays, which danced upon the can- 
vass. Oh ! Beauty ! how powerful are thy charms, 
even by the painter's art ! Whilst living in thyself, 



LADY MABEL. 251 

thou commandest the worship of genius, wisdom, and 
valour, and all their trophies are laid at thy feet. 
Their hand is placed upon the sounding harp, their 
hand turns over the records of old sages, their hand 
is died in blood, only to win a smile from thee ! The 
Angel of death, is heaven's painter of thee, and he 
sketches thine undecaying form, in the light of our 
dreams. And even in the illusion of a noble art, for 
ages thou receivest homage, as free from hypocrisy, 
as from sinister motives, and in the sigh and the tear, 
accompanying our glance, thy memory speaks and 
moves ! 

Sir William and his lady, could have knelt and 
prayed for happiness on the fate of that young female, 
as if it were yet in the future. Their mother, after a 
short pause, seated herself opposite, and began the tale. 

e When the lion-hearted Richard of England went 
to the Holy Land, not a braver and more handsome 
knight was in his train, than the youthful De Norris, 
your grandsire, Mabel. He was accomplished in all 
the arts of peace and war. His trophy of the one, is 
that Paynim standard, which hangs on the wall in 
decayed tatters ; and of the other, the love and the 
heart of that beautiful girl, Magdalene Montfort, his 
young cousin. 

* Her residence, since her orphan childhood, had 
been the hall, and William De Norris, her sole com- 



262 THE CROSS- AND 

panion. Often have they wandered together in this 
gallery, by moonlight, and the ghosts of the warriors 
of her race, conld not frighten their young love.' 

" Mabel," softly whispered Sir William Bradshaigh 
to his lady, " is not this our own tale ? " 

The dame proceeded, e He took her to the neigh- 
bouring woods, and there they passed whole days — 
he the shepherd, and she the rustic maid. She often 
sat on his knee, while he combed her long golden 
locks. But the crusade inspired in De Norris's mind, 
thoughts and desires for glory. He dreamt of no- 
thing but the lakes and holy mountains of Palestine, 
where the daring Richard should pitch his camp, 
afterwards to become his court. The cross was ever 
before him, and a warrior's arms were glorious to be- 
hold, dipped in the Saviour's blood, and consecrated 
to his cause. Was the licentious prophet to hold the 
inheritance of the meek and lowly Jesus ? In vain 
did Magdalene weep, and by tears and caresses, en- 
treat her William to stay in his father's halls. He 
vowed that the cross must seal their marriage, and 
that he would be faithful to his love. Yet, proud 
was she, as the morn of parting came, and De Norris 
mounted his fiery charger. He was so beautiful and 
gallant ! He had pronounced the tender farewell, as 
the trumpets sounded, and his followers rallied around 
him. But a sudden thought brightened over his fea- 



LADY MABEL. 253 

tures, and lie spurred back to Magdalene, and sprang 
from his steed. 

i li My own Magdalene, give me thy portrait that 
hangs in my apartment, that in my tent, before and 
after our engagements, I may think of thee, and 
implore thy blessing." 

' " Nay, William De Norris," she replied, with a 
feint si^h, " should you be faithless, how would that 
silent resemblance, recall to thee our past yows, and 
bitterly chide thee for thy falseness. I would not 
eYen then, give thee uneasiness. But "William, think 
of me as fondly, as I will of you ! Farewell ! " and 
she tlrrew her arms around him, and wept on his neck. 

1 Cccur De Lion, honoured your ancestor by marks 
of his favour, and once embraced him in the royal 
tent, after a victory, in which De Norris had' distin- 
guished himself. Four years he had been absent, but 
Magdalene forgot him not, and as every palmer ap- 
peared at the hall, she kindly led him into her own 
bower, expecting to hear of the Holy Land, and her 
lover. She became sad, and pale, spoke of none but 
William, and of nothing but his return. 

e One evening towards sunset, the family banner was 
suddenly raised, for news was afloat that De Norris 
had returned, and was on his way to the hall with a 
bride ! Magdalene heard it, and from that very 
moment became a maniac. She rushed out to 
meet him, among the retainers. 



£54 THE CROSS AND 

' Through the shady wood she beheld De Norris ap- 
proaching. Banners were floating over his head; 
and by his side rode a beautiful lady, in white bridal 
robes. They were conversing together, yet was the 
knight's cheek deadly pale, and his lips quivered, as 
he cast furtive glances around, which told that 
he expected to meet One whom he had forsaken. But 
trees concealed her. To change his emotions, he 
dashed the spurs into his furious steed, in order that 
his spirit might be chafed in curbing it, when a loud 
shriek was given, and the horse plunged madly on. 
A rush was made to the place by his immediate 
attendants ; and on looking back De Norris saw his 
own Magdalene prostrate and mangled. He leaped 
down ; a shudder of despair and frenzy passed over 
his whole frame, and he flung himself beside her. 
He called her by her name, kissed the bloody brow, 
and threw back her disordered tresses. 

' " My own Magdalene, forgive me ; still am I 
thine ! " 

* Her eyes opened upon him. A convulsive heave 
of her panting breast, a sudden grasp of her false 
lover's hand, and then a wring of bodily torture 
followed. The cold sweat of death was already upon 
these beautiful features. They were not in the least 
distorted. The hoofs of the horse had left their 
mark on the neck and bosom torn and bloody ! She 



XADY MABEL. 255 

cast one look -upon him, raised her head, and faintly- 
muttered, 

f " William— am I faithful ? Tell me so." 

"* She heard not the mad reply, and De Norris spoke 
to the dead ! 

{ His bride had fainted, and was, forthwith, carried 
to the hall. Hours had passed, and the retainers 
dared not approach their lord. But those stationed 
at the porch, at length beheld him approach, with the 
shattered corpse of Magdalene in his arms. 

6 " My bridal couch ! Shew me the way. Dost hear 
me, knave. Oh no, what sorry attendants on hy- 
meneal delights ! " 

( His bride met him. She kissed the cold features of 
the dead, and forgave the living. William knelt at the 
feet of his wife, and sought pardon for his treachery. 

6 Again there were sounds of revelry, and by all, 
save the bridegroom, poor Magdalene was forgotten ! 
To a late hour the banquet and the dance inspired 
them with pleasure, and wine and song made them 
gay and merry. 

6 De Norris and his bride retired to their apartment. 
The tapers were extinguished, when a dim and beau- 
teous light filled the room, and Magdalene stood at 
the foot of their couch, attired in the same dress as 
when William parted from her for the Holy Land. 
She stood, her fair hands clasped together, as if 



£56 THE CROSS AND 

earnestly imploring them for some favour. Her air 
was slightly reproachful ; but deep, unending love 
was expressed. De Norris, in tones of horror, ad- 
dressed her, — 

f " Spirit of my Magdalene, why tormentest thou me 
and my innocent bride ? I have been faithless, but 
she saved my life, and how could I repay her kind- 
ness, but with my heart's love! Still Magdelene # I 
have not forgotten you — nor can I ever ! " 

' " William," a low and sweet voice uttered, and De 
Norris felt a cold, yet loving kiss, upon his trembling 
lips — "William, grant me but one favour, and I 
will bless you both. My portrait, which hangs in the 
gallery, take it down, and every night when you re- 
tire to rest, oh ! lay it between you ! Do this 
William, and I am yours in the other world ! " 

' He started from the couch, and sought the gallery. 
A strange light glowed on the portrait. He knelt, 
and prayed to heaven. Deep peace descended upon 
his troubled mind, and he arose, calm and happy. 
He took the portrait down, kissed the mimic lips, 
and then sought his bridal chamber. Magdalene's 
request was complied with most devoutly, and they 
were happy; but they did not forget Magdalene. 
The retainers affirmed that they had seen her wan- 
dering through the wood, and singing, as in other 
days, when De Norris was by her side. Her light 



LADY MABEL. 257 

step was occasionally recognized, ascending the cor- 
ridor, and dancing in her own apartment. 

"* De Norris, to perform fitting penance for his 
treachery, erected a Cross, at the eastern gate of 
Wigan, where Magdalene had often sat, and there he 
paid his stated pilgrimages. That, my children, is the 
portrait : the light over the features seems prophetic ! ' 

Lady Mabel shuddered at the tale, and some dark 
forebodings crept over her soul. Yet these were not 
fears lest Sir William Bradshaigh should prove false ; 
something more criminal on her part, which she dared 
not think of. 

They left the gallery, and once more entered into 
the mirth of the banqueting scene. 

Ten years have passed ; and in that epoch, what 
changes visit man ! Wisely did the ancient drama- 
tists give to tragedy, the unity of time, the briefness 
of a day ; to denote that a few hours are sufficient for 
the developement of awful, and unexpected conse- 
quences ! How much more will the lapse often years 
mark the mutability of every lot, but that of the dead ; 
and the altered condition of every home but the grave ! 
Time decays not ; it is only man. Speak of " Old 
Father Time:" — but is his step more sober, than 
when he rode over the unformed chaos of earth's ma- 
terials, or flew over the fragrant shade of Paradise ? 

T 




258 THE CROSS AND 

Does his pulse beat more slowly ? Do moments b&° 
come days ; or days, years ? 

Ten years have elapsed, and Lady Mabel had arisen 
early. She sat alone in a room, which might have been 
more appropriately called a cell. Grief had antici- 
pated the silvery touch of time, and grey hairs were 
visible amidst her raven locks. Yet, there was the 
same sweet and majestic countenance as before. Bathe 
the human countenance in heaven's own dew, or in 
the gentle and clear stream, and it will beam joyfully; 
'but bathe it in the heart's tears, and it beams so 
sweetly! She counted her beads, and then looked up 
•for pardon, as fondly and anxiously as a wife numbers 
*the minutes before her lord's return. She heeded 
not the fragrance which stole in at the small casement ; 
it neither assisted nor marred her devotions. The 
sun was bright, and joyous, still she turned not her 
pale face to its cheering influence. She laid aside 
her rosary, and sat like a statue of sorrowful thought, 
if statues can be stamped with such an expression. 
At length she slowly arose and looked out of the case- 
ment into the deep wood, and sighed. Overpowered 
by disagreeable reflections, she wished to fly from the 
place, where she had no other view. But the door 
refused to give way to her repeated attempts. It was 
early noon, and all the day, so long and weary, must 
she remain there ! She clasped her hands together, 



LADY MABEL. 259 

and bitterly exclaimed, whilst she gasped for breath, 
at the discovery, 

" Gracious heaven ! why, am I then a prisoner, and 
in mine own mansion ! Ha ! the very banner of my 
family waves over this tower, proudly ; and yet I, the 
mistress of Haigh, must be confined, and denied the 
privilege of the meanest servant ! It is but just, 
though I deserve it not from Sir Osmund. But hush, 
I hear footsteps. My soul, rise brave within me, and 
tell the usurper what he is, although he may be my — 
husband," and she raised an hysterical laugh at the 
word, and drew herself proudly up. 

A hasty scuffle was made in the passage, and an 
angry voice was heard; it was Sir Osmund Neville's. 

" Dost hear me, boy ! Back to thy crib ! Dost wish 
to suck thy dam — the wolf? Back — " and a heavy 
stroke enforced the words. But no cry of pain was 
raised ; it might have fallen on the wall, but for the 
loud laugh of joy, raised by the tormentor. The 
scuffle continued, when a weak, but firm voice was 
heard — 

(i Strike on, Sir Osmund ; strike hard. I care not, 
for I will see my mother ! This is a Bradshaigh's 
resolution ! " 

" A Bradshaigh ! " was the reply, " I have put 
horns upon the noble head of the family, and have 
written Sir William a cuckold, by marrying Mab ! " 



£60 THE CROSS AND 

" Hold, — not a word," returned the boy, in tones 
fierce and daring, " a few years make me a knight, 
and then chastisement for the fat and cowardly Welsh I 
Stand back, Sir Osmund, and let me see my mother." 

The voice had gradually heightened until all the 
boy had vanished, and the accents sounded manly 
and defying. 

Lady Mabel shrieked, and exclaimed— 

66 My brave boy, the son of his father ! Heaven 
bless and protect him, to plead my cause, in fitting 
time and mode, and assert his own rights ! " 

But the voice of the knight became louder and 
louder, 

"Boy, minion ! son of an ape ! whose father pre- 
tended to bear the cross, when he should have hung 
for his villanies, on the highest in England ! Go to 
my groom, and learn thy duty to my horse. He re- 
ports to me that you are refractory. Well, your wages 
are due. Take that, and that, and that, 1 " and thrice 
the lash fell fiercely on the noble boy. " Well " he 
resumed, " dost hear thy mother's voice ? You know 
a mother's shriek ; that is her only tone ! Oh fond 
fool ! Well, you wish to see your mother, fillial fool : 
my strokes have given you a prettier face than a fa- 
ther's art could patch up. Come beautiful child, and 
shew yourself to the proud gaze of a mother, on your 
cowardly father's birthday." 



LADY MABEL. 261 

" Cowardly ! He would have driven you, Sir Os- 
mund, from this nest. Cowardly ! " 

The door was burst open, and Lady Mabel beheld 
her eldest son (a youth of fifteen) dragged in by the 
Welsh knight, her husband ; his face was bloody, and 
there were marks of a livid hue on his cheeks and neck. 

" Mother," exclaimed the knight, laughing at his 
blasphemy, — "mother, behold your son." He ap- 
proached, bowed his unwieldy form in mock reverence 
at her feet, whilst his sinister eye attempted to express 
sarcastic admiration and love. His hair hung, matted, 
over his Welsh outline of a face, and his ill-formed 
mouth, in smiling, became a hideous gash — gash ! 

The boy rushed to his mother, and fondly placed 
his hand beneath her chin, to raise her countenance 
from the knight, kneeling in mockery. She kissed 
his forehead, and with her lips wiped off the blood, 
and hugged him to her bosom. Hs was a noble boy, 
and never had he crouched to his mother's husband. 

" Mother, now I am safe." 

" It is the fool's birth-day " said Sir Osmund, as he 
left his recumbent posture, "yes, it is, my sweet Mab. 
Bejoice, rejoice; shall I send my -jester to help thee 
to a laugh ? " 

"If in doing so" replied the spirited boy, "you 
send away yourself." 

Once more he was struck to the ground, by the en- 
raged knight. 



262 THE CROSS AND 

" Oh! Sir Osmund" — exclaimed Mabel, " save him! 
I shall tutor him to love thee fondly ! " 

" That would be a difficult task, dear mother " an- 
swered the boy, with great indifference, as he arose 
and fixed a stern look of defiance upon Sir Osmund. 
The knight paced the room in boiling wrath, but 
his rage dared not meet the glance of that boyish eye, 
so powerful is innocence. He turned abruptly upon 
Lady Mabel, and said, 

" Harkee, Lady. Here you must be confined ; these 
are my jailors, four in number, trusty fellows," and 
he pulled out four keys, as he spoke. " Content 
yourself, good wife, and pray to Sir William to be 
relieved from Sir Osmund." 

Mabel threw herself down on her knees, humbly 
before him. 

Her locks fell from the slight silken band, which 
passed across her forehead, as if to strengthen the 
power of her supplications. They concealed the no- 
ble expansion of her brow, as if dignity ought then to 
be lost in condescension. Her eyes were raised so 
mournfully, although no tears were visible. But she 
might as well have addressed herself to the stones, 
and the echoes would have given a kinder reply. 
The knight stamped furiously, and impatiently, as 
Mabel spoke. 

" Sir Osmund, confine me not here. It is too, too 



LADY MABEL. 263 

near the picture gallery, and I have been lately vis- 
ited by such awful dreams and sights there, that I 
shudder. For your own sake, my wedded — nay, Sir 
Osmund, I will not speak falsehood; I cannot call 
you husband; — Sir "William, forgive me!" 

In a moment, she forgot that she was supplicating 
a favour from the ruffian knight. Her eyes were 
turned upon vacancy, but with such an earnest ex- 
pression! Her bosom heaved, her lips slightly qui- 
vered, and a strange light gleamed from her eyes. 
In a hollow voice she whispered, whilst her hands 
were clasped together, 

"Spirit of the departed! forgive me for my treach- 
ery to thy memory. No — no ; I have not been faith- 
less to thee for ten long years, if silent and lonely 
vigils can conjure up what thou wert; if penance dark 
and painful can change me to thee, from what I am, 
to what I once was ! Oh ! cannot that which withers 
all the bloom and freshness of my youth, on the cold, 
cold stones, likewise efface every other name but Ma- 
bel Bradshaigh : dear, dear name ! Our noble mother 
was gone to thee before I consented to be another's, 
in name ; and even then, but for our children, thy 
grave should have been my second nuptial couch!" 

" Would that you would hasten to its delights, 
then" interrupted the brutal knight, as he approached 
and patted her head in scorn. " Call on your torch 



264 THE CROSS AND 

bearers, for Hymen's light ; bid them be quick, and 
consummate the ceremony. But to turn from this 
fine reverie of your's, sweet Mab, you must leave this 
room and follow me into that frighful gallery. You 
may then make orisons to all the painted heroes ; and 
improve yourself so much as to become a holy father. 
But, methinks that you are here visited also by 
strange sights, and you will have more space, in the 
other room to fly from them. Come, not a moment's 
disobedience, and there dream of Sir William. It is 
his birthday, and he ought to appear unto you, as a 
matter of courtesy. And oh, do not be faithless, and 
treacherous to him ! Go after him, and leave me 
Haigh ! Ha, ha ! And as for the young fry, it matters 
not where he be confined ; he may go to the devil, 
and dance on the holiday of his father's birth. Come 
Mabel ; aye, you may kiss the boy, wipe the blood 
from off his face, and he wont pollute the clear foun- 
tains before the porch. Come, sweet Mab." 

Mabel embraced her son, and followed Sir Osmund 
into the gallery, and as he retired she heard the- heavy 
bar secured on the outside. 

Meantime, the boy found his younger brother, and 
they wandered forth, together, into the wood. They 
sat down and gazed upon the window of the 
room, where their lady mother was confined, and long 
and affectionately they spoke of her wrongs. The 



LADY MABEL. 265 

younger, clapped his hands and shouted, as he beheld 
her handkerchief waving from the casement ; a sure 
proof that she had observed them. It was a pleasant 
day, in the most pleasant season; and soon their 
young hearts became free and happy, and they thought 
of some knight of romance spurring forward on a black 
steed, with glorious and shining arms, to free their 
mother from her shameful durance. They found their 
bows, and gay archers, shot through the wood, ma- 
king it resound with their gladness. Oh what a bless- 
ing a young heart is ! It has in itself a balm for all 
its grief! Spring and summer have many flowers, 
but childhood and youth have as many hopes ; and 
they even descend from a mother's arms into the grave 
without being withered. 

They rambled, hand in hand, down the steep hill, 
which by a circuitous rout, leads to "Wigan. The 
way was then romantic, and all around, beautiful glens 
were lying in the arms of majestic eminences, and 
every thing bore the stamp of feudal and chivalrous 
days. The Church turrets were seen against the cloud- 
less sky like the pencillings of Hope, and Charity ; 
whilst the quiet vales were sprinkled over with tamed 
lambs. The boys, at intervals, on their way looked 
back to the hall of their ancestors, admiring the broad 
pendant which floated over the stately tower. At 
length they reached the Cross, erected on the outside 



266 THE CROSS AND 

of Standishgate. There the town guards were in 
conversation with a holy palmer. He seemed to speak 
little, and only put a few questions. His piercing 
eyes glanced from beneath his large cowl. His hands 
played with the crucifix which was suspended from 
his neck ; and on his sable cloak were embroidered 
Peter's keys. 

(i Here, reverend father/' said one of the guards, 
" here are Sir "William's boys ; they will shew thee 
the way to the hall." 

The palmer started at the words. He eagerly 
looked upon the boys, and raising his hands above 
their heads, implored a blessing. 

" Yes, yes," they both exclaimed, and took hold 
of his hands. 

" Is it near the hour of vespers at the Haigh ? " 
inquired the palmer. "Many, many years have 
elapsed since they were chanted there in my hearing. 
How sweetly the hymn stole up through the little 
echoes. Who, then, sat beside me ? Ha ! who now 
will ? But, boys, how is your lady mother ? " and he 
waited breathlessly for the answer, with his eyes in- 
tently fixed upon their countenances. 

66 Holy father," the eldest replied, " she is well, 
but needs comfort." 

The noble mansion of Haigh was now seen through 
an opening in the woods. Long and anxiously did 



LADY MABEL. 267 

the palmer look thereon ; yet his was not the gaze of 
a stranger; for many emotions, arising from many 
recollections, were marked in the motions of his 
head. 

" My boys, why does the banner float over Haigh? " 

" It is our father's birth-day," was the reply, " and 
oh, in your nightly orisons, pray for his gallant soul, 
— he was slain in battle." 

" Slain in battle ! " exclaimed the palmer, with a 
fierceness half concealed. " "Who bore the message : 
— who told you that you were orphans ? " 

"A friar had shrived the soul of one of his re- 
tainers, who confessed that he had seen his noble 
master die, and a "Welsh knight confirmed it." 

The holy men paused, and struck his hand 
violently against his breast. 

" But your mother — how did she receive the 
news of your father's death?" 

" Oh, father, do not ask me to think of her sor- 
rows. For a year she walked not forth with us, as 
before, to speak of Palestine and him. We were 
clasped to her bosom : still we dreaded the embrace, 
for there was a violent heaving of her heart, which 
made us shudder, and the black, black robes of her 
widowhood, were close upon our cheeks : we could 
not endure her kisses, for, as she raised us to her 
lips, tears fell upon our faces." 



268 THE CROSS AND 

The reverend palmer put his arms kindly around 
them. 

" Oh/' cried the elder boy, " you pity my mother 
and us. Heaven bless your affectionate heart ! I 






was not old enough, when he departed, to tell him 
how brave I would be, and perhaps he died in doubts, 
lest I might disgrace his name." 

" Brave boy ; " and as the palmer spoke, he took 
the youth's hand and shook it, as a warrior would the 
hand of his brother, "you will not disgrace his 
name. But let us sit down beneath this tree, for I 
am wearied with a long pilgrimage." 

He had before walked slowly, and now proposed 
to be seated, as if he wished to delay. the time. And 
who does not pause, when, after a long absence, he 
returns home, and fortify his bosom to know the 
worst. We dare not open the door, as if that would 
disclose too wide a scene to our view ; but we gaze 
in at the small lattice, just tb- recognize one object, 
and know that all is not lost. We refuse the light 
of day to shew us home, and eve is the time of our 
welcome to all its hallowed joys — if these still 
survive. 

He took the bow from the hands of the elder boy, 
and examined it long. 

" It is my r father's bow," said the youth, " and, at 
a long distance, he could pierce the first arrow with 



LADY MABEL. 269 

the second. My mother loves it. See, their names 
are carved upon it." 

The palmer laid it down, and leaned against the 
tree. 

" Father, art thou weary ? Alas, Haigh Hall, now 
•cannot afford thee a shelter. Sir Osmund Neville — " 

"Who is he?" said the holy palmer, starting up. 
His cowl fell from his face, and gave to view a calm 
and manly forehead, with auburn locks curling on it. 
It was pale, but commanding. " Who is Sir Osmund 
Neville ? " 

The boys looked with astonishment. 

" Hast thou been a warrior ? " asked th€ younger. 
" Thou resemblest what my mother tells us our father 
was ; and he was a brave warrior. But, holy man, 
Sir Osmond is my mother's — " 

" Husband ! "-—exclaimed the palmer with a faint 
shriek. He turned aside. " Good God ! — what a 
return ! My own halls cast me forth. My wife's 
pillow refuses to give rest to my wearied head ! Sir 
William is a stranger in Haigh ! Would that the 
report had been true. Yet now I will dare the 
worst." He replaced his cowl. " Where is Sir 
Osmund ? " 

" He is now a hunting, and has confined my 
•mother to an apartment where none can "visit her. 
He struck me wantonly, but I shall yet repay him 
ibr my mother's wrongs." 



£70 THE CROSS AND 

(c Couldst thou conduct me to thy mother, to give 
her holy comfort ? " 

" Thank thee, heaven thank thee ! I know a 
secret passage to the picture gallery, where she is 
now in durance. All the retainers keep to their 
duties, and they love me for my father's sake. They 
would not inform Sir Osmund. Come on, holy father, 
the brow of the hill is soon passed ! " 

They hastened their steps, and soon arrived at the 
hall. 

" There my mother stands at the window." 

The palmer gave a quick glance upwards, in the 
direction, and then turned away. 

The boys took each a hand, and led him to the 
left tower, where was a small entrance, communicat- 
ing by a long and intricate passage with the staircase 
which led to the gallery. Before them, a few of Sir 
Osmund's men were lying, with their faces, broad 
and bluff, turned upwards. They were sunning them- 
selves, in imitation of the cattle in the park, and, cer- 
tainly, there was no reason why they should not follow 
such an excellent example, especially for kindred's 
sake. Their large . eyes were shut, but had just as 
much expression as when they were open. Their 
mouth, however, the use of which they were not 
-altogether so lazy as to abandon, was stretched out, 



LADY MABEL. 271 

covering their cans of ale, which, by no common 
strength of suction, they were fast emptying. Their 
breasts were heaving with the zeal of the application, 
and the delight of the fermentation. At length a. 
pause was made. They turned to each other. They 
spoke not by words, and yet their thick, ruddy lips, 
bedewed with the liquor, were very expressive. A 
loud laugh followed, which was feelingly responded to, 
and prolonged by, the lowing oxen. They looked 
round upon the holy palmer, as his steps were heard. 

" Ho !^-ho ! take a cup," exclaimed one of them. 
" Drink on Sir William's birth-day, a long health to 
his ghost ! Here," and he thrust an empty cup into 
the palmer's hand. 

For a moment the holy man's cowl was raised from 
his flashing eyes, as if to make some discovery, and 
his arm was stretched forth from the cloak in which 
he was so closely muffled, with the hand clenched, 
and the veins almost leaping through the thin dried 
skin which covered them. The next moment, he 
courteously declined the Welshman's proffer. But 
his cheek was deadly pale, and a livid hue flitted over 
his lips. The elder boy started forward, and grasped 
one of the short swords lying naked beside the men, 
and, like their masters, sunning themselves. 

" Cowards," the youth white with rage cried out, 
" insult the holy man but again, and I shall fill the 
empty cups with your blood." 



272 THE CROSS AND 

But his arm was arrested by the palmer. 

" Nay, nay," said he meekly, " thou art headstrong 
and rash. But our Holy Mother inflicts a penance 
upon these men, for their irreTerent and unbecoming 
treatment of her humble son and servant. What ! 
profane wretches, do you laugh ? Beware. If this 
crucifix brand the curse, woe, woe unto you. Boy, 
lead them to the penance room, and I myself will 
release them. Come." 

They dared not disobey ; for then, every man, 
noble, or knight, or menial, was the priest's retainer. 
The ministers of the altar were more powerful than 
the satellites of the throne, and beneath the single 
pall and crosier of the one, lurked a vengeance which 
could scathe and destroy the proud tiara of the other. 
How mysterious and yet real was the influence con- 
cealed in the slightest external of the Church ! 

The Welsh retainers groaned as they were com- 
pelled to rise, and proceed into the dark and cheer- 
less apartment, which, in later times, served for a 
dungeon. The palmer turned the key, and fastened 
it to his belt. 

" They are safe," he whispered to himself. They 
were now met by some of Sir William's old retainers, 
who bowed low to the holy man, and seemed inclined, 
by their looks and haltings, to ask concerning their 
•dead lord. 



LADY MABEL. *27S 

Feudal times might be the times of slavery on the 
part of retainers, but they were those also of fidelity 
and strong attachment. These retainers might be 
treated as brutes, but if so, they were treated like 
dogs, and in return they yielded a service which no 
hire could have extorted. Their love for their lord 
was powerful, and yet instinctive ; their happiness 
was genuine, and yet animal, — far from the happiness 
of man. Their privileges were extensive ; not scul- 
lions of the kitchen, they were the g^nii of the old 
halls. Their attachment to places and domains, — was 
that of the dog. As they were fond of loitering in 
old paths, or glancing at the proud mansion, or 
seated at the porch, their feelings were those of that 
animal, licking every part of the house, and lying 
down on favourite spots. And when their lord de* 
parted they drooped and pined ; not as men sorrowing. 

These reflections might have been awakened at a 
sight of the old servants of the Bradshaigh family, as 
they gazed so anxiously and inquiringly. Go to a 
house where the master has been long absent. An 
affectionate dog answers to your knock, and whines 
so piteously, and looks so fondly, as if begging to 
know tidings of him who has gone. Such was the 
appearance of the aged retainers of Haigh. 

The palmer blessed them, in low tones, but feel* 
ingly, and then passed on with the boys. 



274* THE CROSS AND 

They crept through the entrance, and were soon 
threading their way through the dark labyrinth. They 
gained the staircase, The palmer had taken the lead, 
evidently familiar with the place. He paused, and 
listened to the gentle tread of Lady Mabel. He 
strained his ears, as if expecting to hear the music of 
the voice, as well as of the foot ; not for the sake of 
the future, but of the past. The setting rays, rich 
from the golden west, were streaming brightly on a 
little lattice, which lighted a recess in the long gal- 
lery, and meeting those which entered by the wide 
casement, they threw a dull haze around. They 
.prevented him from seeing distinctly, as he looked 
through it ; but the fluttering of a white robe, and 
the soft motion of a fair hand at the further extremity 
could be perceived. At that moment a horse was 
heard approaching the hall. 

A suppresed shriek arose from within. 

" It is Sir Osmund," exclaimed the boys. 

" Well," returned the palmer in firm accents, and 
he seemed to unbuckle some of his garments, whilst 
unconsciously he stamped in fury. 

The boys tapped at the lattice. 

" Mother, open unto us. Here is a holy priest, 
and he will comfort thee. He hath already blessed 
us, and so kindly. He hath wandered in far-off lands, 
and his voice speaks a foreign tale, and speaks it 
gently." 





LADY MABEL. TkO 

er small white hands opened the lattice. 

" Stay for a moment, and the holy man shall be 
admitted. Long is it, since religion was allowed to 
enter mine apartments, to cheer my sadness; and 
now it has come to my cell. Cell ! " 

The lattice closed. The palmer stood in strange 
bewilderment. Her face seemed to be a vision, and 
her voice a song of other days, and all — not a dream. 
And why should he think of other and former days ? 
Have priests and palmers boyhood and youth ? Are 
they not trees without a leaf, on which no bird of 
heaven alights to charm the solitude? Do they 
know of the earthly transports of love and hope ? 
Beautiful is the holy Virgin — but cold and hard are 
the stones where they kneel to worship her. And 
why should England be the country to excite his 
feelings ? He had travelled through lands more fair. 
Greener was the earth's bosom, and more beautiful 
the sky's face. Why should he be moved at the 
sorrows of the noble matron ? At the same hour of 
twilight, when bathing his wearied feet in the little 
■stream, afar from the glistening tents on the moun- 
tain tops, he had Listened to the mournful song of the 
wandering Hebrew maid. He had passed by her 
and laid his hands upon the high and noble brow 
blessing her beauty and her sorrows. And why 
should he feel the ideal presence of romance, as he 

v 



274 ?HE CROSS AND 

looked upon the woody hills of Haigh. From the 
gorgeous mosques he had beheld the Mount of Olives, 
and the feet of the prophet-girls dancing there, 
while their light scarfs were hung, floating on the 
trees which crowned the summit, like the^ garments 
of angels — the airy clouds. 

The door was slowly opened. Lady Mabel, as 
they entered, greeted her boys, and kindly welcomed 
the holy man. As he took her extended hand, a 
shuddering seized him ; he averted his face, and 
caught a glimpse of Sir Osmund dismounting, under 
the casement. For a few moments, overcome by 
some strong emotions, he leaned upon his palmer's 
staff. 

Meanwhile, gentle readers, be pleased to shut 
the door of the gallery behind you, and walk down, 
leaning, as gently as possible, on the Chronicler's 
palsied arm. Do not extinguish the light, — else 
we are left in total darkness, on the dangerous 
corridor. Let us approach to serve the Welsh knight, 
who is now shouting lustily for his servants to ap- 
pear, and take his horse. 

" Ho ! my Welshmen," and he blew his hunting 
horn ; but they appeared not. 

" My other hounds," he muttered, as he turned 
the horse, and lashed it away to bound forth 
at perfect liberty, " my other hounds know the horn. 




LADY MABEL. 275 



I shall see, presently, if these do not understand the 
whip." 

He entered the porch, and was there met by 
Parson Cliderhoe. The knight bowed reverently, 
and would have passed him. 

" Sir Osmund Neville, will you grant me a short 
interview, upon a matter of importance to both of us?" 

" Please your reverence," rejoined the knight, with 
a mixture of humility and haughtiness — "is it to 
breathe a pater -noster over my hunting expedition I 
You cannot return thanks for my success, as I have 
run down nothing." 

Cliderhoe took him by the hand, and led him into 
a private apartment. As they entered, Sir Osmund, 
who was fretted by his bad luck in the chase, could 
ill brook the authoritative air which the parson had 
assumed; and when he was angry, he usually ex- 
pressed himself in light blasphemy. 

" Adam Cliderhoe, although your namesake Adam, 
was placed at the head of the creation, and had all 
power and authority over it, still, you have not the 
same, and have, therefore, no right to lead me about 
wherever you list. And, reverend father, (by the 
way, although you are sworn to celibacy, you have got, 
by some means or other, a very large family of chil- 
dren, for every one calls you father,) you, I say, have 
the advantage over Adam. Ah ! then there were no 



276 THE CROSS AND 

church lands. A pretty comfortable place that para- 
dise—but then he had to work, and it could not 
afford him a better fleece than a few dry leaves. Now, 
father, these are warm robes of yours." 

" Child, do not blaspheme. You have done very 
little, you know, to merit Haigh Hall, and yet you 
are the owner." 

" Not altogether," returned the knight. " There 
is one exception. Your very large demands." 

" We'll speak of that further, Sir Osmund. Are 
we safe from ears and listeners ? because these do not 
suit secrets. Well, be seated," and he fastened the 
door. 

Parson Cliderhoe was then dreaded throughout 
all the country. By wiles and deceits he laid a firm 
hand upon property. But he was as intriguing as he 
was avaricious, and his plots had been treasonable in 
the highest degree. These would have involved 
him in utter ruin, had not gold, that potent being, 
redeemed him. In consideration of large sums of 
money, he had been released from prison, and re- 
stored to .his living and life, when both had been 
justly forfeited. 

He had lately become an inmate of Haigh Hall, 
and might have been considered its master. Sir 
Osmund Neville, it is true, could make the parson 
the subject of jest : but the knight, in return, was the 



LADY MABEL. 217 

subject of rule and command. To Lady Mabel and 
the boys, Cliderhoe paid no attention, either in the 
shape of flattery or scorn. 

On securing the door, he laid aside his priestly 
robes, drew the table back from the view of the win- 
dow, nearer to the Welsh knight's chair, and seated 
himself opposite. He was of tall stature, and nature, 
in this specimen of her architecture, had not been 
sparing of materials, although, certainly, she might 
have put them better together. If we may be 
allowed the expression, she had not counted the 
cost with arithmetical accuracy. The head bore no 
proportion to the other parts, as if her extravagance in 
these had caused her to be penurious to that. Although 
the bones were well cemented by fat, yet the structure 
was far from being elegant. It was difficult to decide 
upon the true figure ; and Euclid himself must have 
abandoned the problem in despair. His head, which 
w#s not shaven, but clipped closely, could not be 
compared to a globe; neither was it like. Atlas's, 
between his shoulders. It moved backwards and 
forwards with such velocity, and describing such a 
large parabola, that one moment it seemed to be a few 
feet in advance of the breast, and the next, its retreat 
was as distant. His large ears (a true mark of villainy 
and vulgarity) were left altogether exposed, stretching 
their wide shelter over his flabby cheeks. His legs 



278 THE CROSS AND 

were not elastic, they might have been glass ; but 
his arms were electric, and they jerked about at every 
roll and wriggle of his mis-shapen trunk. He took 
large strides, as if his feet were not friendly to each 
other, save at the distance of two yards. His com- 
plexion was dark. His eye, when it gazed on va- 
cancy, was dull; it only became bright from the 
reflection of gold. But still, in spite of all these 
deformities, there was a conscious power breathed 
over the appearance of Father Cliderhoe ; and, 
although villainy, deceit, and guile, are generally 
allied to a more dwarfish form, you could not hesitate, 
upon seeing the man, to pronounce that he was a 
habitation for such dark spirits. 

Sir Osmund Neville looked suspiciously towards 
him, as he sat silent on his chair, occasionally moving 
it about, as if anxious for something which might in- 
troduce the subject he wished to be considered. 

" Father," said the knight, " the room is but poorly 
lighted. Shall I order the chandeliers to be trimmed?" 

" Nay, Sir Osmund," returned the parson with a 
hideous leer and smile ; " nay, we have light enough. 
You could sign your name by this light, Sir Osmund ? 
I can read my prayers then. Eh ? You could sign 
your name ? " 

" Sign my name ! " furiously exclaimed the knight, 
whilst he arose and stood upon the hearth. " Sign 
my name ! " 



LADY MABEL. £19 

" Sir Osmund, you are not, surely, ashamed of 
your name," meekly returned Cliderhoe. ' ( A valiant 
knight is proud of it." 

" But to what, good father, must I give my name ? " 
inquired the knight, who, after the flash of first pas- 
sion was over, thought it most prudent to be calm, 
for he knew the character of him with whom he had 
to deal. 

" To this little document. Written in a fair clerk's 
hand ; is it not ? Ah ! but you warriors write in 
blood ! Yet, which is most durable ? Read the papers. 
You appear exhausted, Sir Osmund. Ah ! hunting 
is so fatiguing ; to be sure, to be sure. Who can 
doubt it ? The couch, brave knight, should receive 
your wearied limbs forthwith. . Nay, nay, I will not 
trouble you with listening to these papers. Just sign 
your name f a few strokes of the pen, and then you 
may retire. I must have a care, brave knight, over 
your body : you are so reckless, and should any acci- 
dent occur, chivalry would lose its brightest lance, and 
the church its firmest prop. Sir Osmund, here is a 
pen ; affix your name below that writing." 

In speaking, the parson had come nearer and nearer 
to the chair of the knight. The latter started, as 
from the coil of a serpent. 

" Never, never, Cliderhoe :— thou hypocrite, — base 
born ! " 



280 THE CROSS AND 

" Hush, hush," said the parson, in tones which 
struck terror, from their very whisper, into the 
knight's soul, " do not give me any more names 
than my natural father, and my spiritual mother the 
church, have conferred. Beware, i" have never ab- 
solved one sin against myself, during a lifetime ! Be- 



ware 



i » 



Sir Osmund took the papers. His eye glanced 
quickly over them. He laid them aside, and arose 
to leave the room. 

" Father Cliderhoe, next time make proposals a 
little more extravagant, and you shall precede me in 
my exit from this room ! " 

" Well," thundered forth Cliderhoe, " bid adieu 
to Haigh Hall. Your rejection of my proposal makes 
it necessary. But hear me, before you go to ruin. 
I would yet spare you. Without my favour, you 
never can lay claim to one tittle of this property. 
Hush, come hither," and he whispered earnestly, 
and smiled as he saw Sir Osmund's cheek grow pale. 

"What!" Sir Osmund exclaimed, "Sir William 
was not slain ! Then he may return ? " 

" He may — he may; nay, he will ! Haigh Hall 
is too goodly a mansion for him to leave to strangers. 
False was the word which reported him dead. But 
sign this document, giving to me the half of the 
estate — and let him return— we are safe. The pil- 



LADY MABEL. 281 

grim shall find a resting place, though I should be 
compelled to take my sword, and secure it for him. 
Sir Osmund, there's light enough to sign the name. 
You are a knightly scholar ; spell it quickly, else, 
you know, you know. Every letter will be a security 
against Sir William. Ha ! the large O of your 
christian name will be his grave ! " 

Sir Osmund complied, and Father Cliderhoe added, 
" Now, knight, you must get Lady Mabel's name 
too. I'll come in an hour — have her signature by 
that time. Adieu for the present, Sir Osmund." 

Let us return to the gallery. "We have already 
noticed the overpowering emotions which shook the 
frame of the palmer, as he turned from Lady Mabel, 
and his eye fell on Sir Osmund, dismounting at the 
porch. 

" Holy pilgrim," said the lady, ec thou art fatigued, 
Be seated. Alas ! now, Haigh Hall is no home for the 
weary and the aged; — aye, not even for its lawful 
owners. Lor me, it is now a cell. In other days, 
there was not a room, however dark and gloomy — so 
happy was I, — that I did not call my bower. Then 
you would have found rest and refreshment, and your 
blessing in return, might have been felt to be no 
mockery. Now, the ministers of religion and charity 
are driven forth. But where hast thou been wan- 
dering ? " 



THE CROSS AND 

A long gaze, and a short verbal answer was the reply, 

" Lady, — in the Holy Land." 

Mabel's paleness, which had hitherto expressed so 
beautifully her resignation to sorrow, was now indic- 
ative of that breathless fear which longs to know more 
of danger and evil, or good and happiness; and yet 
dares not. Its sweet light seemed doubtful whether 
or not it should be turned upon the palmer to know 
more. She shaded her face, whilst in low and tremb- 
ling accents she meekly inquired, 

"And in all thy wanderings didst thou ever hear 
of a gallant English knight, who fought beneath the 
banner of the Holy Cross ? He was once the lord of 
this mansion, and my — 

" Brother ? " interrupted the palmer, in a tone of 
melancholy, mingled with scorn and severity, as he 
supplied the word " your brother ? " 

" Brother ! " exclaimed the lady, " no, no. Nearer 
he was than the twin brother of infancy, childhood, 
and youth. Yes, for we were ever One, — One ! Holy 
Father, thou knowest not the meaning of these words ; 
but every moment I have realized their truth. The 
marriage of the heart, no earthly ceremony can con- 
stitute. Our relationship was formed in heaven, and 
Heaven dropped down bands upon the holy altar, to 
encircle and bind us to each other for ever and ever." 

" For ever, lady, dost thou say? And who dropped 



LADY MABEL. 283 

Sir Osmund's bands upon the altar ? Nay, noble lady, 
be not offended, for I know that all affection is change- 
able, and short-lived, dying with a glance or a word ; 
and husband is but a fashion, which to suit your taste • 
may be changed, like any other part of your apparel. 
Changes are pleasant. Sir William to-day, Sir Os- 
mund to-morrow ! Woman's love is not like man's. 
Man's love is the sea, infinite and exhaustless. It 
may ebb, and its sands be discovered, but soon the 
wave rolls over, and again there is the mighty deep. 
Far down, in unfathomable waters, are the crystal 
caves, for the heart's whispers and embraces. Wo- 
man's love is the streamlet. Bathe in its pure waters 
to-day ; — return to-morrow, and it is dried up. Let 
the husband leave his halls, and in ten years he is 
forgotten, and his spirit would be driven from his own 
hearth ! " 

Mabel's eye had flashed with indignation, and her 
majestic form had become erect, and commanding. 
There was the proud heaving of her bosom, and the 
compressed resolution of her lips. But all symptoms 
of anger passed away, as a sigh escaped the palmer, 
and as his hand was raised to brush away a tear. 

" Holy man, these words are unkind ; they are 
not the balm of comfort. I have not been faithless 
to Sir William. He is enshrined in my heart still, the 
holiest earthly image, which death alone can break. 



284 THE CROSS AND 

And oh ! in penance how I worship him now, as 
sincerely as once I did in joy. Gaze upon all the 
little knolls of green, where we sat together, on sum- 
mer days. I know them, and there I have gone, and 
asked pardon of my beloved, many a cold and dreary 
night. But here, in this room, I suffer agonies which 
might atone even for a wife's infidelity to a living 
lord. The night before he left for ^the Holy Land, 
our noble mother told us of an ancestor's perjury to 
the maiden of his troth. That is her portrait, holy 
father, on which you are gazing. In my waking 
moments, for past weeks, I have seen Magdalene 
Montfort (that was the beautiful maiden's name) walk- 
ing with Sir William. They were both sad, and 
looked upon me scornfully, for my treachery. They 
had been unfortunate, and, therefore, were in each 
other's company. I knew that it was but fancy, but 
it had all the power of reality. Oh! is not this 
penance enough ! But, say, holy palmer,, didst thou 
ever see Sir William Bradshaigh ? " 

The palmer sighed and shook his head. " Many 
a gallant knight I have known, who never reached 
his home. Some died, others were reported to be 
dead, and their noble heritage, aye, and their beau- 
tiful wives, became the property of strangers." 

" Reported to be dead ! Reported ! Were they 
not dead ? Was he not dead 1 " 



LADY MABEL. 285 

" Mabel. Mabel Bradshaigh — is he dead? " 

And the palmer's cloak was removed, and there 
stood Sir William Bradshaigh I 

" Come to mine arms, my faithful wife, dearer to me 
than ever. Come ! Thank God that we meet, never 
more to part. Awfully have our dismal forebodings, 
the last time we were in this gallery, been fulfilled." 

" Sir William — reject me. I am unworthy. Nay, 
let me kneel at thy feet." 

" Both together then, and at the feet of the Most 
High. Hush, Mabel, here come the children. My 
boys, do you not know your father ? Kiss me. I 
dm your long-lost father." 

After the embrace, the boys exclaimed in terror, 
" Sir Osmund comes." 

Lady Mabel shrieked. Sir William unloosed a 
garment which was closely wrapped round him, and 
unfurled a Paynim standard which his arm had won. 

" Stay, Mabel, I escape here, by this door. My 
old servants will rally round me. Yet no, I cannot 
leave thee defenceless. William, my brave boy, fly 
with this to my servants. Tell them that Sir William 
is returned. Bid them arm for me. Haste." 

The boy disappeared through the concealed door, 
and Sir William stationed himself beside his lady, 
his sworddrawn. 

" Hc% lights," exclaimed Sir Osmund. " Must I 



286 THE CROSS AND 

fall, and break my neck? Mab, take hold of my 
hands, and bring me to thee." 

The next moment he entered. But the twilight 
was so shady, that he saw not the presence of the re- 
turned knight. 

r Mab, sign this paper. Cliderhoe, come hither." 

" Here's one," replied Sir William, " who can do 
it. Ruffian, do you know me. I am Sir William 
Bradshaigh." 

" Indeed," sneeringly responded the parson. You 
have got the name." 

" And the sword, thou hypocrite." 

" Very likely," was the retort, (i very likely. That 
proves thee a thief, and not Sir William." 

(t Sir Osmund Neville, I challenge thee to deadly 
combat for the wrongs thou hast done me, and for thy 
cowardly and cruel treatment to Mabel and our chil- 
dren. Come forth, else I will smite thee to the death. 
Equal weapons, if thou wiliest : if not, I will stab 
thee where thou standest." 

He rushed forward as he spoke, but instantly the 
the door was secured on the outside, and he and Lady 
Mabel were alone. The wily parson and the Welsh 
knight had ned. The door resisted both foot and sword, 
and stubbornly refused to give way to any forcible 
attempts. Sir William distinguished the clattering 
of hoofs in the distance becoming fainter a&d more 



LADY MABEL. 287 

faint, and he burned for the pursuit. Mabel led him 
to the window, and gazed long and fondly upon his 
noble features. Age had scarcely touched them. 
The bloom of youth had, indeed, passed away, but 
there was the calm and mellow hue of manhood. The 
locks were not as profusely clustered over his brow 
as before, but the expansive forehead was more digni- 
fied when unshaded. Tears came into her eyes, 
for, although he was but slightly changed from the 
husband of her youth, and although no feature was a 
stranger, still she thought why should she not have 
been allowed to witness all the daily changes effected 
upon him. It is painful, after a long absence, to re- 
turn to the home of other days. It is no longer a 
home ; for new inmates have introduced new arrange- 
ments. Humble may have been the household gods : 
only an old chair standing in a corner, and a small 
table at the patched window ; yet they were the gods 
of the heart, and, although they may have been re- 
placed by the most costly and splendid furniture, we 
refuse to call the house our home. Cover the bird's 
nest with leaves of gold, and after its flight and wan- 
derings, would it then take up its abode any more 
than it would although there were no nest at all ? But 
more painful is it when the loved one has changed. 
The features may be more beautiful than before, but 
if all their former peculiarity be gone, they are those 



288 THE CROSS AND 

of a stranger ; and as we would refuse to cross the 
threshold, much more to sit down in the house, once 
our home, but now altogether changed, so we cannot 
take hold of the hand, we cannot kiss the lips, we 
cannot embrace the form of that one, once the idol of 
our heart, but now a stranger. But Lady Mabel's 
feelings were not akin to these ; although they were 
painful as well as extatic. He whom she now gazed 
upon was Sir William Bradshaigh, every look, every 
movement, every accent told her. Soon, however, 
loud steps were ascending the corridor, and louder 
shouts announced them. 

" Sir William ! Sir William ! welcome to Haigh 
Hall ! " 

The bar was removed, and a cordial greeting took 
place between the returned palmer and his faithful 
retainers. 

" Thanks, thanks my men. But the cowardly 
knight has fled. Help me to horse ! Haste ! Mabel, 
my love, I return as soon as the wretch is slain. Thou 
art more beautiful than ever, my own wife. But how 
can you love the aged palmer ? Farewell, Mabel." 

Proud were the retainers, when their lord stood 
among them with his sword. 

% Now," as he mounted his steed, " follow me not. 
Alone I must be the minister of vengeance. Hark ! 
the Welshman's horse has gained the eminence. 






LADY MABEL. £89 

There is the echo of his hoofs. He must be passing 
the steep descent." 

He dashed his spurs into the flanks of his horse, 
and without a curvet or a vault, it bounded forward. 
The influence of twilight is mysterious, both upon 
man and beast. It gives speed and energy to body 
as well as mind. In advance before him, there was 
a part of the horizon beyond the trees which seemed 
rings of molten gold. The sunset had not yet left it. 
Against its bright and radiant surface, in haste, a 
horse plunged on. The rider, Sir Osmund, was lash- 
ing it, for the motions of his arm were seen. The 
next moment it had passed. Sir William furiously 
spurred his steed through the dark wood, and, as a 
flash of his eye was shewn by some concealed light 
of the sky bursting upon it, he seemed the very spirit 
of revenge riding on the storm. His horse*s head 
was stretched forward, eagerly and impatiently. He 
himself crouched down to the very mane, and his 
eyes gleamed wildly upon the place where he sup- 
posed the Welsh knight would be passing. 

Swiftly did the noble courser paw the leaves, strewn 
on the path, and soon he reached the highway, steep 
and rugged. The lights were now reflected from 
Wigan, upon the air around. He drew near the gate. 
The guards started up with their torches, and fixed 
them against the wall. 



290 THE CROSS AND 

" Stay, who art thou ?" and they presented their hal- 
berds, whilst they seized the reins of his horse. " Who 
art thou, thus pursuing Sir Osmund Neville to the 
devil? He'll lead thee wrong." 

" Stay me not, I am Sir William Bradshaigh." 
They started back. They had heard of spectre 
horsemen, who rode so furiously, and they trembled. 
Taking advantage of their terror, he struck up their 
halberds with his sword. The gate was open, and 
he spurred through. A few of the townsmen who 
were loitering at their doors, and in the streets, shout- 
ed after him; but none attempted to prevent his course, 
and soon he had left Wigan far behind. The moon 
arose brightly; he leaned forward anxiously, and 
thought that he -could descry the object of his pur- 
suit, long before he heard the hoofs of the steed. But 
soon, he had both heard and seen him. Fleet was 
the Welsh knight's courser, but that of Sir William 
gained at every turn in the road, and their voices 
were heard by each other, urging them on. Sir Os- 
mund at an angle, avoided the highway, and leapt 
his horse over into the large park, at Newton. Sir 
William followed, and soon the sword of Bradshaigh 
revenged his own, and Lady Mabel's wrongs. 

The dead knight was thrown from his horse, as 
it dashed on. As soon as the deed of vengeance was 
over, Sir William's enthusiasm began to leave him. 



LADY MABEL. 291 

While in the act of striking, the happiness which 
should now be his of once more being the lord of 
Haigh, the husband of his Mabel, and the father of 
his gallant boys, passed vividly before his mind, and 
forbade him to spare. But when the blow was given, 
so strange is man's nature, all these prospects faded. 
He seemed to feel that now he had agreed to a mis- 
erable compact. He almost wished that he had never 
returned to claim the little which was left. Death 
as the arm of vengeance, could not bring him back 
the past, although it had taken away the cause of 
change. Sir Osmund Neville lay lifeless before 
him, never more to claim ought ; — but polluting traces 
were upon all he held dear. As long as Mabel lived,' 
there lived also the evidences. Nay, when she must 
die, and repose along with him in the tomb, calumny 
might say, " it was not always thus, for, side by side, 
when alive, she lay with another." As long as Haigh 
Hall stood, the family disgrace would survive. 

He writhed in agony at the thought. 

"Mabel," he exclaimed, as if she were present, 
" I cannot forgive thee ! Thou hast been faithless. 
I must touch thy hand, and know that it was another's, 
long after it had been pledged in love, and given in 
marriage. Thy couch a ruffian's kennel ! This 
Welsh bullock's blood cannot wash out the stains 
which rest upon my name. Oh ! can it even purify 



£92 THE CROSS AND 

my Mabel's lips ? Whenever they touch mine, I feel 
that they have been polluted. My children alone 
survive for me. Ha ! merciful God, thanks unto 
thee, thanks most sincere, that Mabel has no children, 
who cannot call me father. But when I call her wife, 
methinks this Welshman's spirit comes between us, 
and breathes the same word ; — and to whom will she 
then cling ? " 

The air was balmy, and the moonshine rested gently 
upon the green meadows where he stood, and lambs, 
aroused from their slumbers by the prancing of the 
horses, bounded past him. But they bleated not to 
disturb the silence, and Sir William heard the violent 
beating of his heart. Gradually, however, he re- 
lapsed into a state of tranquility, — not the tranquility 
of joy, but of deep grief. And as before, when 
under the excitement of intense revenge, he spurred 
his steed to keep pace with his fiery spirit, so now, 
when his feelings were different, he curbed the animal 
to a slow walk, as he began to return. But he soon 
discovered that it was jaded and weary, from the speed 
of the furious pursuit. He dismounted, and led it 
for a. mile or two. In the distance, so flat was the 
surrounding district, then unbroken, save by towers 
and halls, rising aginst the pure silvery vault of the 
moonlight sky, he beheld lights in his own mansion 
at Haigh. He thought that he heard sounds of mirth 
.borne thence on the airy breezes. 



LADY MABEL. 

" She may rejoice," he bitterly said, " but can I ? 
She may be merry, for I return the same, as when I de- 
parted, ten long years since; though beautiful maidens 
there have been, who- tried my fidelity in Palestine: 
Ah ! this night has made me an old man ! Would 
that my days had been spent amidst the holy tombs 
at Jerusalem, and I might there have prayed for 
Mabel, my Mabel, all ignorant of her frailty. But I 
must remount my steed. Poor Mabel, she has done 
penance for me, and cannot that atone ? Forgive her ? 
Yes, and she shall receive my blessing in a few 
minutes." 

He vaulted upon his horse, but in vain did he 
spur and lash. The animal staggered, and but for 
great caution, would have fallen. He again dis- 
mounted, and slowly led it to Wigan. The lights in 
the town were extinguished. He passed the church. 
He stood, for a moment, to gaze upon the venerable 
structure. The clock was striking the hour of one, 
and within the low and grey cloisters, which are now 
destroyed, a late vesper was tuned. The notes 
seemed to be sung by some virgin-spirits. Heaven 
bless those whose sweet, sweet voices are heard by 
none else, for oh, none else can bless them ; whose 
soft knees which a gallant husband might have gar- 
tered oft and oft, in pride and sport, bend on the 
cold stones, at no domestic altar, through the long 
night. 



£94 THE CROSS AND 

What a holy calm fell upon Sir William's troubled 
spirit ! 

" Here Mabel and I may sleep peaceably together 
in death, if we cannot in life. God bless our union 
then. No blood will be the seal of the renewed 
covenant. If we cannot live happily now, since 
she has been — no, I cannot say faithless, but oh ! 
frail, frail ; — why the grave may hush our discords." 

He turned into the Hall-gate, with the purpose of 
leaving his horse at an hostelrie, for he knew that it 
could not proceed to Haigh hall forthwith. He still 
kept his eye upon the holy place, when he was sud- 
denly siezed by two armed men. They were the 
sentries of the gate. 

" So, nightingale," exclaimed the stoutest, " we 
have caught thee. Eesist not. We have orders to 
bear thee to the Mayor, and, by and by, you may ex- 
pect to be caged." 

" Stand back, knaves, and keep your distance. 
What would ye with me ? " 

" Aye, aye, bold enough," was the reply. " Thou 
art the horseman who passed our fellows at the other 
gate, in pursuit of Sir Osmund Neville. They called 
thee a ghost. Ho, ho. But " and he brought the 
lamp which he carried to bear closer upon the person 
of Sir William; "here is blood, blood. Come in, 
else we strike thee to the ground." 



LADY MABEL. £95 

It was in vain, the knight saw, to remonstrate ; 
vainer still, on account of his weakness to assault. 
He gave his horse to the charge of one the guards, 
who soon obtained accommodation for it; and allowed, 
himself to be conducted, without resistance, to the 
house of the mayor. 

At that moment his worshipful worship was fast 
asleep, all save the nose, which buzzed as if it were 
filled with flies. His slumbers were so deep that his 
worthy rib might have been taken from his side with- 
out his knowledge, and a noted shrew given to some 
man. But, gentle reader, why hast thou broken 
into the Mayor's house, and entered the private 
chamber of him and his dear spouse ? Let us make 
a speedy retreat, else we may be tried for burglary. 

The house stood solitary, and at the door two 
halberds were bravely stationed, either to assist or 
repel thieves or murderers. The guards knocked; 
after a short interval, voices in loud dispute, were 
heard, and a window on the second story was thrown 
up. A long bright sword, slowly peeped out of it, 
very politely inquiring what was wanted ! A female 
head (the gender was known, a priori by the cap on 
it; and a posteriori by the volubility of the tongue 
within it) followed, and after reconnoitering for some 
length of time, good substantial shoulders ventured 
out to assist the head. 



296 THE CROSS AND 

" Madam," humbly said one of the guards, " is my 
Lord Mayor at liberty, to examine this man, whom he 
gave orders to take into custody and bring hither ? " 

The sword was brought into a dangerous line with 
the anxious inquirer's head ; but he started more 
at the shrill voice which greeted him. 

" Impudent rascals, begone. At liberty ! No," and 
she exhausted a pretty good stock of abuse which she 
had acquired with all a woman's skill, and expended 
with all a woman's generosity. 

" Yes, yes," exclaimed another voice, without a 
head however, " I am at liberty." 

The sword was drawn in, and it remains a matter 
of doubt until this day, whether it was not called upon 
to exercise its functions against the last speaker. 
At least the noise of a considerable bustle was made, 
which ended in the door being opened; and Sir 
William, with the guards, was shewn into a room 
by a servant boy. 

An hour had almost elapsed before the wig had been 
arranged, and the spectacles disposed on the frontis- 
piece of the Mayor, so properly as to allow him to be 
seen. He entered with a slow step to convey notions 
of a solemn dignity, and a pretty strong calf was by 
no means a bad interpreter. After mounting the 
glasses on the higher regions of the head, he rubbed 
his eyes as hard as if they were flint, and as if he wish- 



LADY MABEL. 897 

ed them to strike lights in order to enable him to see. 
His face was good-humoured, and had no more ex- 
pression than a well-stuffed pudding. He then 
looked gravely upon Sir "William, when the knight 
addressed him, 

" Why am I brought here ? I had no desire to be 
regaled with a breeze of thy far sounding nose/' (the 
mayor, be it observed, was snoring even then) " nor 
to behold thee in undress." 

The Mayor started at the sounds of the knight's 
voice; 

"Sir William Bradshaigh thou art. It was no 
ghost. I know thee well ; and no wonder that thou 
pursued the Welsh knight. Where is he ? " 

Sir William slowly unsheathed his sword, all bloody. 
" That is the best answer ; is it not intelligible ? " 
The worthy Mayor held up his hands in nervous 
terror. 

" Come up with me to my own apartment, Sir 
William. We must consult upon your safety. You 
will be outlawed for murder. Come, and allow me 
to introduce you to my lady. She wont frighten 
you as she does — ." 

The look which accompanied the pause and omis- 
sion well supplied the personal pronoun. 

" You cannot return to Haigh Hall until the morn- 
ing. Guards, you may depart. Do honour to Sir 



298 THE CROSS AND 

William." They raised a loud shout, which brought 
the lady down in a quick dance. 

Early in the morning, after an hour's sleep, Sir 
William left the Mayor's house. It was dull and 
rainy, and his spirits were more melancholy than on 
the previous evening. There was none of that long- 
ing desire to see a home and a wife, although for 
many years they had both been strangers. The at- 
mosphere was oppressive. Nature had neither beau- 
tiful sights, nor fragrant scents to please him. The 
street was muddy, and the houses were darkened 
with the overhanging clouds. 

He had passed the gate leading to Standish, when 
his attention was arrested by a female kneeling at the 
Cross which De Norris had erected. She looked up- 
wards with an eye of sorrow, and prayer. He started 
as he recognized the beautiful features of Mabel 
Bradshaigh. Heedless of the rain, and exposed to the 
cold, she had assumed the lowly posture. He heard 
the words breathed earnestly, 

':' Oh ! heaven, and Sir William, forgive me, and 
accept of this my penance ! " 

She raised herself as his steps were nearer. What 
deep delight, tinged however with penitence, glowed 
on her countenance as she beheld her returned 
lord. 

" Thank heaven ! but oh ! let me kneel to thee. 



LADY MABEL. 299 

"Wilt thou forgive me, Sir William ? This cross, was 
raised by a faithless ancestor to the shades of the maid 
whom his perjury had destroyed, and here I must do 
penance thus. But oh, look not upon me, exposed as 
as I am," — and she "blushed as her eyes fell upon her 
naked legs and feet. 

" Mabel, this penance is cruel to both of us. "What ! 
those beautiful legs, and small feet, must they tram- 
ple upon the mud and the stones ! Remember, Ma- 
bel, that I will wash them myself this morning, in the 
fountain. Nay, no more penance." 

" It must not be, Sir "William. I have made a vow 
that every week I will travel thus, from Haigh, to 
this Cross. And oh, do not prevent me ; — you must 
not, otherwise I cannot be happy in your company. 
Penance is necessary for love injured." 

Mabel spoke the truth. Injured love requires it, 
though it only be paid with a tear, a sigh, or a sor- 
rowful look. Yes, penance, thou art holy, and ne- 
cessary ; for where is the love which is not injured ? 

All the discontent and melancholy of Sir William 
passed away. He loved Mabel more fondly than 
ever, even for the self imposed penance. She might 
have decked herself in splendid attire to meet her 
lord, but the lowly garb secured his affections more 
firmly. The rich sandals of the time might have con- 
fined her feet, but naked as they were, Sir William 
gazed more proudly upon them. 



300 THE CROSS AND 

They walked on together. Mabel knew Sir Os-» 
mund's fate, by the very air of Sir "William, but she) 
questioned him not. A full bright cloud now began 
to widen and widen over the stately towers of Haigh 
Hall. Sir William in silence pointed to it as a happy 
omen, and as its deep tints were reflected upon the 
structure, glory and fortune seemed to hover over it. 
They were passing a narrow winding, into the plan- 
tations, when their younger boy rushed forth. 

" Father, father, bless your little son."j 

" Hugh, my beautiful and brave boy, dost thou 
know me?" 

The knight looked oft, in sorrow as well as pride, 
on the boy's countenance ; it was so delicately fair, 
that the very life seemed trembling on it. 

" Father, I could die this morning, I am so happy." 
. The knight started. 

" Die ! my little Hugh. No, no, you will live to 
be a warrior." 

Loud were the acclamations raised by the retainers, 
as Sir William and his lady appeared. A whole 
week was devoted to festivity and merriment, and all 
were happy. 

Regularly every week, Mabel repaired barefoot 
and bare-legged to the Cross, which still stands as- 
sociated with her name. The penance gave happi- 
ness. For months she had her sad moments, and Sir 



LADY MABEL. 801 

William, with all his love and attention, could not 
"wile away the dark spirit of grief and remorse. But, 
by degrees, time and religion banished the evil spirit, 
and even in her solitary moments, no longer did it 
haunt her. 

In a few weeks after the brave knight's return, 
little Hugh Bradshaigh was taken from earth. One 
morning, as the sun was shining brightly, and the 
birds were merry of note, his mother went to awake 
him to receive her blessing ; but he had already re- 
ceived the blessing of angels, and Jesus : — he was 
dead. The treatment and the sorrows which had be- 
fallen him, in his former years, had been too much 
for his young soul ; and as a bird, which has with 
difficulty braved the sternness of winter, dies when 
genial spring comes, with its blossoms and hymns, 
and its last note is faintly raised from its green bed of 
leaves, up to the laughing sky ; so, as soon as hap- 
piness visited him, little Hugh pined away, as if every 
touch, every voice of affection raised him from earth. 
So strange is life, that he might not have died so 
soon, but for his father's return. Yes, affection kills 
the mournful young. Every gentle stroke, as his 
mother sheds the fair hair of the boy, is a touch of 
death; languid and slow, but sure. Hugh Brad- 
shaigh's pillow was, ever after, unpressed by any 
head, and for hours Sir William and his lady sat by 
the little white couch, as if his spirit were there. 



802 THE CROSS AND LADY MABEL. 

He lay in no cloister, chancel, or vault. Verdant 
was his grave. An evergreen was the curtain of his 
little bed, and the feet of birds were .all that trod 
upon the flowery sod. 

Eeader, wilt thou for the sake of the aged Chron- 
icler, pay one visit to "Mab's Cross?" If so, go at 
earliest morn, or latest eve, and all noise and bustle 
being hushed, your thoughts may pass over centuries, 
and return invested with the remembrance of Magda- 
lene Montfort, and Mabel Bradshaigh. The cross 
stands apparently no greater object of interest, than 
an indifferent structure of three stones. Yet, when 
the beautiful Mabel did penance there, flowers were 
growing around its sides. And even, for four ge- 
nerations after, a small plot of grass was trimmed and 
cultivated around it. But when Wigan became the 
seat of the civil wars in Lancashire, Mab's Cross be- 
ing considered as a popish relic, a tooth of the beast, 
suffered at the hands of Soundheads. It has since 
been reconstructed, but stands entirely destitute of 
ornament, on or around it. 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 



PREVIOUSLY TAKEN BY CROMWELL, AND THAT HE PLANTED 
HIS CANNON ON A CIRCULAR MOUNT AT THE SOUTH-WEST 

side of the town, on hill meadow." — Barnes's History of 
Lancashire. 



Well does Lancaster deserve the name which the 
Romans gave to it, of the green oifcy ; and the beau- 
tiful scenery, for many miles around, may be con- 
sidered as its delightful gardens. There are no huge 
rocks frowning, like tyrants, in the country which 
they have ruined, and blighting with sickness and 
poverty, all that is healthful and rich. Such moun- 
tain scenery only affords an observatory, whence we 
may gaze into the distance, upon other and more 
charming spots, — the home-glens of the happy and 
free — where every noise, even of the world, is 
hushed into sweetness, and the forest of the recluse 
and the hunter, where light and shade, all the day, 
agree to make a religious twilight. Often has the 
wanderer, on the majestic hills of Cumberland, looked 

Y 



304 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

down in rapture upon the north coast of Lancashire, 
stretching out like a gentle surface and web of ether, 
on which, at sunset, the shades fall, as if they were 
kindred to each other. 

Nor is the scenery around Lancaster tame. There 
are beautiful eminences, which may be termed the 
voluptuous breasts of Nature, on which thin mists 
from the river float for a covering. Amidst all the 
undulations of the glens also, harsher features may be 
seen, which the deep woods have not altogether con- 
cealed. At the distance of five miles from the town, 
there is a rugged mountain, at the foot of which a cave, 
called Dunald Mill Hole, formed of natural rock, and 
vaulted with great strength, may well attract the 
curiosity of the stranger. A brook falls into it; — in 
one part it forms a terrific cascade, and in another, 
small lakes in the cavities. Above it, on a cliff, stands 
a mill, to which a neat cottage was attached. In the 
vale below, sheep were browsing, and no human feet 
ever disturbed the solitude, except those of some wan- 
dering patriarch coming to Dunald Mill upon busi- 
ness, or walking out, on Sabbath eve, in a holy, con- 
templative mood, and treading gently for the sake 
of the flowers, which taught him of the Great Being 
who gave them beauty. 

But why should we speak of beautiful scenes, 
when civil war has been let loose, and when the dew, 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 305 

falling there at morn and night, is blood, the blood 
of bretjiren ? Cannot spring and summer be barren, 
when /they are only to weave garlands for war ? 
Why speak of a delightful retreat, when the tramp 
of soldiers, the clash of arms, and the fierce engage- 
ment have chosen it for their theatre ? Let the altar 
of home be dashed down, when it can no longer give 
a shelter to the holiest worshiper ! Let the holy shade 
become a waste heath. Oh ! if war is a game which 
must be played, let it be in large cities. There its 
ravages may please the Antiquary of after ages. The 
mark of a cannon ball may become and dignify the 
noble fortress, and the splendid palace ; but, when it 
is found on the wall of a white cottage, it is sad and 
disfiguring. Curse him who launched it there ! Send 
forth soldiers among the rabble and mob of a town ; 
but keep them from the patriarchs of the vale. 

A dark September evening had even darkened the 
beautifully white-washed cottage of Hans Skippon, 
which stood at the distance of a few feet from Dunald 
Mill, where, in happy content, he earned his bread, 
by grinding it for others. The loud fury of the tempest 
had silenced the flowing of the Meerbeck, which 
turned the mill, and the changing noise of the 
cascade, which it incessantly formed as it fell into the 
deep cave below, at the foot of the mountain. Nature 



SOO LANCASTER CASTLE. 

seemed to be acting the part of an arrant scold, who 
first puts all the fretting children to bed, and then 
commences the storm herself. The spray which had 
gathered on the brook was driven against the window 
by continual gusts, and, occasionally, angry and sullen 
growls of thunder rolled up the wide and sweeping 
glen, against the eminence. The thunder might 
have been a fearful angel speaking to the wind a re- 
bellious mortal. Had Hans' mill been put in motion 
by all the " Lancashire Witches," with their own 
tongues to boot, as the worthy miller himself re- 
marked, the noise would not have been heard amidst 
the wrath of the tempest. 

Hans and his dame were snug within. They 
crept close to the fire, which blazed upon the clean 
hearth, but closer to each other. They were well 
advanced in years. They were older than the cottage 
that sheltered them: it had been built when they 
were made man and wife. But no change had been 
wrought by time upon their affection, and Rachel 
could gaze upon the furrowed countenance of her 
husband, with as much fondness as she had ever 
displayed when it was smoother. Nay, we ought to 
have said with more, because three times a day she 
induced Hans to wash off the meal and flour, which 
was plentifully sprinkled there, in order that she 
might be proud of his natural appearance. 



LANCASTER CASTLE 1 - 307 

" The white flour, my dear Hans/' she would say, 
as she gave him a salute, " covers all the red flowers 
of your cheek, and, although the first is good for the 
teeth, the second is better for the lips," and she 
smacked her lips with great relish. 

On the present occasion, however, his face was just 
as it had left the mill, and no white sweep could look 
more enticing. But Rachel, by and by, assisted him 
in his ablutions, as, to her imagination, heightened 
by the loud raging of the storm, he appeared rather 
frightful previously. She had drawn him towards a 
small mirror at the window, to satisfy himself, when 
a furious gust drove the latter in. They started. An 
awful flash of lightning gleamed into the room ! 

" Hans, what a night ! Blessed be God that we 
are alone. We see each other, and know our fate. 
Had we been blessed with children, as we often, often 
wished, aye, prayed to Him who ruleth all things, 
they might have been abroad at this very hour. At 
least they could not all have been here. God is 
merciful, even in his trials." 

" He is, Rachel. Let us take a seat beside our 
comfortable hearth. Well, well, I never knew what 
the word window meant before. It signifies, I sup- 
pose, a place for the wind to come in at. Some of 
the old witches, who were executed at Lancaster, on 
the day of our marriage, may have come to the cave, 



308 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

to raise such a squall. The mill is safe, and so is this 
house. But oh, how many there will be who are 
shelterless ! " 

They again sat down, and, for a time, their con- 
versation was inaudible. The wind raved louder, 
and went to the highest note in the maniac gamut. 
At intervals, when the storm subsided into low moan- 
ings, and dying sounds, the lightning flashed vividly, 
as if the glances of nature were still angry, although 
her voice was hushed. The miller and his dame 
crept closer together. When they could not speak, 
they listened to the, wind tremblingly, like children 
over some fireside tale of terror. Rachel rested one 
hand upon her husband's shoulders, and the other, 
sometimes, sought his neck. Both shuddered, as they 
turned their eyes to the window, but had perfect con- 
fidence when they gazed upon each other's face, illu- 
minated by the cheerful light of the hearth. There 
is magic in that blaze to man and wife. Not even 
sunset, with its gorgeous hues lighting up the window 
beside which they sit, much less the soft artificial 
rays thrown from the finely polished marble of the 
ceiling, can reveal the same sources of inexpressible 
domestic happiness ! Wealth, laugh not at the 
affection of the poor. Love is within the breast, and 
flutters not on spangled garments of costly quality 
and workmanship, or haunts palaces. Love dwelt 






LANCASTER CASTLE. 309 

with the first pair, when they were driven from 
Paradise, and were only covered with leaves. The 
language of the poor to you may appear rude ; but 
there are some to whom it is music, as sweet as it is 
sincere. Their touch to you may appear hard, but 
there are some who thrill under the beating of its every 
pulse. And youth, laugh not at the affection of the 
aged, for the heart is never leafless and sapless ! 
When they are about to step into the grave, they walk 
closer together, and every movement is an embrace. 

Accordingly, no young couple could have been more 
loving than Hans and Rachel Skippon, and the storm 
led them to speak of their many comforts. 

" Rachel," replied Hans, to a remark of the dame, 
upon the pleasures of their retired life, " it is even 
so, and I would not exchange places with the proudest 
lord in the land. Nay, I would not sell my miller's 
coat. This morning, as I walked into Lancaster, a 
stout, stiff-necked lad came forward, and asked me to 
become a soldier, promising great distinction. Says 
I, white is the colour of my flag, and the only coat of 
of mail I shall ever consent to wear, must be a coat 
of meal ! " 

" A soldier ! " ejaculated Eachel. 

" Aye, aye," was the reply. " War is soon to be 
played. The governor of our castle has gone to the 
High Court in London, to give evidence against 



310 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

traitors, and many such traitors there are said to be, 
whom the Parliament refuses to put down. I heard 
that the king's throne and head are in jeopardy." 

" Woe, woe to the land ! " groaned the dame. " A 
handsome lad, and yet to lose his crown and his life." 

" Well, well," said Hans, "his majesty may thank 
his silly father. What good, even to the tenth gene- 
ration, could the race of the ungodly man expect, who 
gave orders that the people should sport on God's 
holy day ? Rachel/ hast thou forgot the proclama- 
tion which he caused the parson to read ? I was but 
a youth then, and oft I could have liked to visit you 
on Sunday. But the wish was blasphemous. The 
parson said we were not to think our own thoughts, 
and as my father thought I should not visit you, I 
took Ms thoughts." 

" Not always," returned the dame, as she took his 
hand, "not always, even upon that subject." 

" Well, well, I give in to you, Rachel. But on 
that Sunday, after the service was over, the parson 
drew from his robes a long roll of paper, and, wiping 
his mouth very unmannerly, as he always did, before 
his eyes, read that it was the King's most gracious 
will that the people, on leaving the [church, should 
enjoy themselves in all manner of recreations and 
sports. He added, that our Solomon might well 
give laws to all his subjects. My father and I went 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 311 

to a friend's house, and there solemnly bewailed the 
state of the country; the rulers of which scrupled 
not to enact the most awful iniquity. As we returned 
home, in front of the church there were dances, and 
games of archery, in which the parson himself joined 
most heartily. His croaking voice shouted lustily, 
and his stick-shanks leapt up in the air, while his 
broad skirts napped like a swallow's wings. A smile 
was on his face, which was thrown backwards as we 
passed. My father, in his righteous wrath, struck 
the hypocrite to the earth. In the crowd we escaped, 
but never more did we darken that house of prayer 
by our presence." 

" Yes, Hans, the Lord will be avenged for that 
proclamation of sport on his own day. A silly King 
James was, indeed. My father saw him as he passed 
through Preston, and he never spoke highly of kings 
afterward." 

So interesting was the subject of their conver- 
sation, connected with old remembrances, that for 
some time they were not aware that the storm had 
altogether subsided. It was now a beautiful calm, 
and soft breezes stole in at the opened window. 
Hans walked forth to the mill, and thence gazed 
down upon the vale. A dim reflection of the moon, 
pale with weeping, as she struggled ihrough the 
clouds, to gain some of the clear azure sky, which 



312 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

here and there appeared, was resting on the swollen 
brook. A sound from the distance fell npon his ear. 
He strained his eyes, and, at length, recognized a 
form on horseback entering the vale. 

" Rachel, Rachel, what can it be ? " and there 
was terror, mingled with curiosity, in the tones. His 
dame suddenly appeared, but to her it was an equal 
mystery ; not long to remain so, however, for speedily 
the horse was reined up at the foot of the mountain. 

" Ho ! — help ! — help ! " exclaimed a man's voice. 

" Nay, nay, Hans, dost see that which he carries 
in his arms ! My God, look there, — that pale face, 
lifted to the moon. He is a murderer ! He gazes 
on it. Well may he shudder." 

" Help, good folks," the voice repeated, in earnest 
tones. (i Give assistance to a lady. Good heavens, 
must my Mary die and follow her father ! " 

A female shriek was heard, and the face raised itself 
to the horseman, and small white arms were thrown 
around his neck. Hans and his wife instantly has- 
tened down the narrow winding path which led to the 
barred entrance. 

" Thank heaven, and you, good friends ! Bayard, 
do not stir, as I descend with my sweet burthen. 
Dame, will you give her shelter ? " 

" Aye, aye, sir. Beautiful creature ! she seems 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 313 

asleep. Yet why should she be abroad, and in your 
care, on such a night ? " 

" You must not question me," was the reply, " at 
present ; shew me the way," and he carried his com- 
panion, as gently as he would an infant. " God bless 
thee, Mary," he frequently muttered, as he put the 
small face closer to his breast, and drew his cloak 
around her form. 

Eachel preceded him into the warm and comfort- 
able room, and drew a large easy chair from its place 
in the corner, to the fire. He slowly bent on his 
knee, and seated his burden there. Her head fell 
back, but her hands still grasped those of the horse- 
man. She was deadly pale, and might have been 
thought a corpse. There was a mingled expression 
of madness, sorrow, and love, on the beautiful outlines 
of her face. So long had they rode in the darkness, 
that she could not open her eyes when the light fell 
upon them, and even her finely pencilled lashes were 
still and motionless. Her little feet, raised from the 
floor, quivered and trembled. 

The good dame bustled about, and amid all her 
offices of kindness, attested by her looks that she was 
plunged into a mystery, from which she had no objec- 
tions, instantly, to be extricated ; only she did not, 
in so many words, implore help. As she removed 



314 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 



the wet garments from the fair stranger, she gazed 
anxiously upon her companion. He was young and 
handsome. He was nobly attired in a cloak of deep 
mourning, and as it was thrown back in his motions, 
a sword, belted by his side, was seen. His locks, as 
the fashion of the times required from young gallants, 
were long, and they curled gracefully down his 
shoulders. Since he entered, his eye had never 
turned from the face of his companion. 

" Mary, my Mary," he at length said, as he played 
with the black ringlets on her forehead, " look upon 
me, Mary." 

"Father, dost thou call ? I'll soon come to thee, 
soon, soon — wherever thou art. But, I must see 
thy face. Oh ! a headless father to come to ! yet, 
father, I will come! " and she gave a loud shriek of 
madness. 

" Hush, Mary, — am I not spared to thee ? Can- 
not we travel through life together ; and if we have 
no home through the wide world, all in all to each 
other ? " 

No reply was made. He cast a look of anguish 
towards the dame and her husband, who had then re- 
turned from sheltering the horse. 

" She understands me not. Oh ! who can comfort 
her now ? " 

" She is asleep," said the dame, " and oh ! young 



LANCASTER CASTLE, 315 

gentleman^if, as I believe from her words concerning 
a father, you have removed her from a father's roof, 
you never, never can be chappy. She is, indeed, a 
beautiful creature to lie in your bosom, walk by your 
side, and sing to you her own sweet dreams. But 
-does the young bird sing any more when taken from 
the nest? In every look, however fond, you will 
behold a silent reproof for tearing her away from her 
duties to an old father, without a blessing. The 
husband may give the ring, but unless the father 
gives his blessing, she is cursed. Oh, must that 
young head bow before a father's curse ? Look at 
her slumbers, they ought to have been beneath the 
roof of her own home. She might have perished in 
this awful night, and murder had been added to your 
crime. Take her back to a father's arms." 

" A father ! " was the sorrowful reply. " She has 
no father ; nor can I as yet, claim over her the pro- 
tection of a husband. Her father perished, yes- 
terday, by the order of a tyrant king, under the false 
evidence of the governor of your castle. I had en- 
deavoured to convey her away from the scenes of her 
grief, and had engaged a boat at Lancaster. But I 
dared not venture my precious freight on such an 
awful night, and I have wandered, I know not 
whither. Providence has brought me here to kind 
friends." 



316 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

"Young gentleman/' replied Hans, while tears 
were trickling freely down his withered cheeks, " God 
will reward thee for thy care and love to the orphan 
one. But whither would you bear her ? Here she 
may find a home, until happier days come, for I 
know that you will seek the wars. She cannot de- 
part at present." 

6i No, no," added the dame, (i you must agree to 
leave her, and I shall be a careful and affectionate 
mother, though an humble one." 

u Thanks, my good friends, both from the dead 
and the living ! I could not have hoped that so secure 
a home was awaiting her. O nourish her for my sake, 
and when she speaks of her father, mention my name, 
Henry Montressor, and assure her, that he will be 
father, husband, all ! I must leave her this moment. 
Should she awake, we could never part. There is a 
purse of gold. Use it freely." 

" Not for ourselves," replied the generous miller. 
" Although she be of gentle blood, we make her our 
child. Her sorrows will be lightened in our home, 
in this peaceful retreat." 

" Now," said Montresser, and he gently disen- 
gaged his hands from the grasp of his sleeping com- 
panion. He softly kissed her lips. He started up, 
dreading that the tear which had fallen on her cheek, 
would awake her. He raised his hands to heaven. 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 31? 

" God of mercy, if thou hast one whom in all the 
earth thou lovest more than another, for innocence 
and misfortune, let that one be Mary Evelyn ! Let 
angels guard her, under the direction of her sainted 
father. Send peace to her sorrows. Let thy balm 
drop into every wound, thou gracious Being." 
e f Amen," responded the miller and his wife. 
And surely God himself repeated the same Amen ; 
for a sweet beauty, shining in quiet happiness, rested 
upon the features of the sleeping one. Montressor 
pointed to her, whilst he said in anguish, — 

" And should she wander in her mind, oh, soothe 
her. When she awakens, tell her that I am safe, 
and that soon I am here again. One kiss more, my 
Mary." 

Hans conducted him down to the pass, and soon 
the sound of the horse's hoofs were unheard in the 
distance. The moon was shining brightly. 

" Never," said Hans, " were the rays so sweet here 
before. And well may they, such a beautiful face 
lies in our house ! " 

The weary months of winter passed on, and Mary 
Evelyn was a gentle maniac. Unremitting were the 
attentions of her humble friends, but she heeded them 
not. She was always, when awake, playing with the 
counterpane of her little bed ; starting up, and shriek- 
ing in her sport. 



31 8 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

"Arthur Montressor," she would say, "why do 
you go forth alone to gather flowers for me ? Must. 
I not accompany you, and gather the most beautiful 
for your own auburn locks ? Ah ! there is an old 
venerable man enters. How beautiful are those 
white locks, and that meek, meek face. Go, Arthur. 
I must stay here, alone, with the headless man ! head- 
less, look at him, — gory neck ! Ha, ha ! " 

Spring came, and the good dame brought flowers 
and strewed them upon the pillow. They were steeped 
in the morning's dew, and as Mary applied them 
to her burning forehead, and parched lips, she smiled 
and seemed to be pleased. But she played with them, 
and their heads came off. 

" Yes, yes, — he was beheaded ! " 

After this she daily became calmer, until she was her- 
self again ; the beautiful and blushing Mary Evelyn. 
Yet, think not that the madness had departed ! Reason 
is like a mirror ; break it, — you may replace the 
fragments, — still it is broken. She loved to wander 
forth along the glen, or into the cave. Her soul was 
like a harp, which every spirit of Nature could touch. 
Madness had sublimed many a thought and feeling, 
until they seemed to hold converse with the spiritual 
world. — Nature is more personal than is generally 
thought. She has a soul as well as senses. The lat- 
ter are the pleasant sights, the sweet fragrance, and 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 319 

the music of voices, but the soul of Nature is that 
deep internal working every where, whose will 
operates upon the senses. Have we not felt the 
throbbing of its pulse of life, and can she live with- 
out a soul ? Nature, therefore, is earth's best com- 
forter to the lonely, because she feels and acts — a free 
agent. 

Mary Evelyn could now also enjoy the conversa- 
tion of the miller and his wife. 

1 ' Miss Evelyn," Hans once in good humour re- 
marked, " we thought that you never would speak to 
us. But, as my mother used to observe, ( persons 
may carry an egg long in their pocket, and break it 
at last.' " 

Whenever Miss Evelyn w r ished to be . alone, she 
could retire to her own little apartment, which 
opened into the back of the glen, or wander into 
the cave, where the various sounds of the brook fall- 
ing amidst the rocks and cavities, and the notes of 
the birds, whose nests were there, beguiled her 
melancholy. 

Meanwhile active hostilities between the Kin<* and 
Parliament had commenced. The sword had been 
unsheathed, and blood was already on its edge. 
Counter acts, threats, and impeachments, ceased, and 
the field was taken. Lancashire, echoing the voice 
of Lord Strange, declared for Charles, and engaged 

z 



320 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

in the struggle. A few of the principal towns had 
been seized upon, and held by the Royalists, in spite 
of the assaults of the Parliamentary forces ; but the 
latter, under the command of the most able generals, 
and fresh with the enthusiasm of a new-born liberty, 
were soon to be successful. 

The inmates of Dunald Mill were not altogether 
ignorant of these troublous times. The clapper 
made a constant noise, and Rachel's speech, of which 
she naturally had a great fluency, was incessant : still, 
these combined agencies could not deafen their ears 
to all the reports. On the sabbath, when they re- 
paired to Lancaster, although it was the day of peace, 
there were no subjects of conversation afloat, except 
rumours of war. In the church, many a seal had the 
parson opened, amidst thunderings and lightnings, 
and black horses, and white horses, and red horses, 
and riders bearing bows, conquering and to conquer, 
had spurred forth. Then he would, from Scripture 
prophecy, delineate the character of the opposite 
leaders in the war. When Lord Strange planted the 
royal standard in the county, the parson's text was, 
" Who is this that cometh from Edom ? " Edom, he 
very judiciously considered, as synonymous with 
Lathom, the family seat of his lordship. When 
Oliver Cromwell was reported to be marching into 
Lancashire, at the head of a body of men, whom he 



LANCASTER CASTLE: 321 

had himself levied and disciplined, he travelled into 
the Apocalypse, and gave out the following ; — " And 
they had tails like unto scorpions, and there were 
stings in their tails, and their power was to hurt men, 
five months. And they had a king over them, who 
is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the 
Hebrew tongue is Abaddon." 

" Abaddon ! " the parson exclaimed. " Yes, Crom- 
well is a bad un, a thorough bad un ! " 

Often did he descend into the valley of vision, and 
take a view of the dry bones ; or enter the field of 
battle called Armageddon. He would then pray, and 
the clerk held up his hands and stayed them, lest 
Amalek might prevail. And truly for the length of 
an hour he prayed, as some of the dissolute Royalists 
remarked, without ceasing or sneezing. Alas ! cava- 
lier parsons could quote and apply Scripture language 
as ludicrously and blasphemously as roundhead 
ranters ! 

Thus, war had lately been the constant theme. It 
seemed to be pleasant to Miss Evelyn ; and when all 
the tender and the beautiful of her sex were imploring- 
success on the handsome king, she supplicated a 
blessing upon the arms of the fierce republicans, and 
when news came of victory on the side of the 
Royalists, the cloud which passed over her brow 



322 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

betokened that she considered herself as one of the 
vanquished. 

One Sunday morning, Hans, after donning his holi- 
day attire, entered the little room in front, where they 
generally sat together, and found his wife and Miss 
Evelyn unprepared to attend him to church. 

" So, Rachel, you intend to preach at home ? " 

" Yea, Hans," was the reply, " my lady and I have 
agreed to stay at Bethel, and not go up to Zion. It 
is not safe for females to travel in such dangerous 
times. Nor can I enjoy the privileges of Zion at pre- 
sent. Whenever I enter the church, my thoughts are 
disquieted within me. It is so near the castle, and 
I think more of cannons and soldiers, than any thing 
else. Nor is the parson clothed with salvation, he 
speaks always of war. God will indeed make this a 
Bethel, andBachel Skippon shall sing aloud for joy." 

" Yes, my dear friends," said Mary Evelyn with 
enthusiasm, "how delightfully shall we spend the 
Sabbath ! the little glen behind, shall be our church, 
where no roof but that canopy above, can intercept our 
ascending praise. The flowers shall be our hymn books. 
Nay, nay, they whisper of a Creator, but not of a Sa- 
viour. Even the lilies which he pointed out so beau- 
tifully when on earth, are silent of Him ! How calm 
is every object around ! In what a holy and sabbath 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 323 

repose do the rays fall, as if they were the feet of 
angels, dancing so lightly upon our earth ! " 

"Yes," replied Hans, in true christian feeling, " the 
sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sab- 
bath. Take away this day, and we could not tell 
what heaven is. And yet that profane prince pro- 
claimed sports thereon, and appointed that his book 
should be laid on the pulpit, along with the book of 
life. But, I must away to the public ordinances. 
Should war come to Lancaster, which side must I fall 
into ? Alas, Evelyn speaks so beautifully of the holy 
puritans, who hate a tyrant over their consciences, that 
for some time I have ceased to pray for him who is 
called King." 

" Hans," replied the dame, with some warmth, "if 
I thought you could be so foolish as to take the sword, 
as truly as I live, I would this moment disable you 
from leaving the house. But you could not mean 
this ; — no, no. Well, you can go, and to entice you 
home, I shall prepare some savoury meat, such as thy 
soul loveth, of which you may eat in abundance, and 
praise the Lord. Wont you bid farewell to your 
wife ? " 

She threw her arms around his neck, but the old 
man seemed offended. 

" Do you intend to disable me? "he asked, as he 
put her arms from about him. " Thirty-five long 



324 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

years have I lived with you, and never listened to 
'such language. But since you have become Job's 
wife, I must be Job, and shew patience. Come, wife, 
kiss me," and he gave a loud and hearty laugh, 
which he suppressed when he remembered that it 
was the sabbath. 

" Fie, lie, Hans, to speak of kissing before a young 
lady ! It is unseemly." 

" Verily, dame, Miss Evelyn knew what kissing 
meant before. She blushes — Good morning, Miss 
Evelyn. Good morning, dame. Hush, just one, 
do not make a disturbance; it is the sabbath." 

The miller walked up the glen, and soon gained 
the highway. At every step he beheld proofs of the 
bad effects of the "Book of Sports." No crowds 
were to be seen moving to church, but they were 
loitering by the way, engaged in mirth and games. 

u Ha ! " exclaimed Hans, as he beheld an old man 
tottering on before him, — "who can this be? I 
should know his gait, but then, his apparel is changed. 
It is old Sir Robert ; but before, he was always 
dressed as a gay cavalier." 

The old knight turned round. His white locks 
hung over a plain-fashioned coat, and his hat was 
stripped of the proud plume which he had once 
sported. His age might be seventy, although his 
face was rosy. 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 325 

" "Well , well, good miller," he kindly said, " art 
thou alone also ? I left my beloved daughters at 
home, for I am fearful of the times." 

" You have nothing to fear, Sir Robert/' replied 
the miller, " in Lancaster, since you are a Royalist." 

" A Royalist ! " echoed the knight, and he shook 
his head. " Not much of that now ; no, no. The 
king has become a tyrant, and I disown his cause, 
A gallant nephew of mine, a roundhead by principle, 
in a battle of last month, was made prisoner, and the 
king gave him no quarter — but death ! " 

" The taking away of life," rejoined the miller, 
" Charles seems to consider as his kingly prerogative." 

" His turn will come at last, Republicans say it 
shall, Death says it will. And what is a King ? The 
meanest beggar. The poor man may only have one 
morsel of bread, — the king demands the half of it, 
and he is not frightened, for all his pride, and by his 
thoughts of dirt and scab to eat it. He, — a great 
man ! Go to the treasury, and there you will see the 
widow's mite, and the starving man's alms ! and 
Charles puts forth his white hand and takes them ! " 

"Yea, truly," said Hans, u I am more independent 
in my cottage, than Charles in his palace. I earn my 
bread by labour, but he just puts on a few robes 
which we have all patched up with our own rags, 
blows a whistle which we have bought for him, and 



326 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

plays with a toy which he calls a sceptre,, and for all 
this he receives his million." 

" Nay, good friend, yon scorn a king too mnch. A 
king can work, and deserve all his salary, by ruling 
well, and peaceably. But as for Charles, he has taken 
the sword against that country, which he solemnly 
swore to protect. He sets his royal head up against 
all the sage senators of the nation. One man laughs 
at a Parliament ! If his father deserved the name of 
Solomon, — Charles has much more justly earned that 
of Rehoboam : for under him all the tribes of Israel 
have revolted. He has bound on the nation, grevious 
burdens, which cannot be borne, and which he him- 
self could not move, even with his little finger. And 
as for my poor Lord Strange — of the Derby race — 
why he's a black hearted Papist. Were Cromwell to 
sweep down upon him, the vain nobleman would gladly 
hie away to the Isle-of-man. I wish no evil to him, 
but merely pray ' the Lord rebuke him ! ' would that 
the Eagle which brought a child to the family, were 
again to descend and take this child wheresoever he 
lists ! " 

They walked on together. As they entered Lan- 
caster, they were struck at the unusual stillness and 
quiet of the streets. There were no games and 
sports. The doors were shut, and no longer were 
children sitting on the thresholds. The town seemed 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 327 

deserted, until they came to the church gates, where 
crowds had assembled, all in earnest conversation. 
The venerable structure arising to the morning rays 
from the green hill, near to the castle, seemed like an 
angel pleading against the uses and employments of 
the other. They are both, evidently, of the same 
high antiquity, and standing, also, upon romantic 
elevations, it might be imagined that they had been 
founded to oppose each other. The parson, in one of 
his just similies, had called the mount of the castle — 
Sinai, of which the flashes and reports of the cannon 
were thunders and lightnings ; whilst he designated 
the mount of the church — Zion — where his own notes 
were the still small whisperings of mercy, to listen 
unto which the assembled tribes came up. 

The crowds were gazing intently upon the castle, 
where the sentinels had been doubled. A few were 
gay, and vapoured out jests against the enemy, in the 
cavalier style of affected blasphemy and dissipation. 

" So," said one whose hat was shaped in the fashion 
of one of the turrets of the castle, high and tapering, 
but foppishly off the true perpendicular, and who was 
lord of a neighbouring mansion, " those cannons peer 
out from the loopholes in front like the piercing eyes 
of a buxom damsel at the window, ogling and smiling. 
They ' 11 riddle the breeches of the enemy. The 
governor assured me, yesterday, that as the round- 



328 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

heads are so fond of Scripture, whenever they come, 
he shall put a whole Bible in the mouth of the can- 
non, thus to quiet them in the name of the Lord, and 
give them holy promise, precept, and threat, line upon 
line, all at once. They shall be left to digest them 
at their leisure." 

" Good, good, ha, ha," replied a neighbour cava- 
lier, " but then it will scarcely be the Book of Life, 
you know." 

" Nay," was the rejoinder, " you are out there. 
Come, let us reason together. The Bible is the 
sword of the Spirit, it can kill, especially if it were 
bound in a lead case, and thrown with fury. It is the 
savour of death unto death, as they themselves would 
say. Savour ! aye there will be a pretty strong savour 
of powder on its pages ! Nol himself, although he 
had three warts at the end of his nose, instead of one 
at the side, would smell it ! " 

" Could not the Royal Book of Sports," slily said 
Sir Robert with a smile of scorn on his aged features, 
ft of which his present Majesty has printed a new edi- 
tion, be substituted in its place ? " 

" Good," was the reply, " most excellent ! Eh ? 
would it not make rare sport amongst the roundheads ? 
It would verily enforce them to join in a few games, 
such as dancing till they fell down. But, old knight, 
be on your guard how you recommend that measure 




LANCASTER CASTLE. > 329 



again. It has been seconded and carried by a major- 
ity of affirmatives in parliament with this amendment, 
of being burnt by the hands of the common hangman, 
instead of being vomited forth' by the cannon," 

" See," whispered the knight to the miller. " Par- 
liament does its duty nobly, by purging itself from 
that mass of pollution. I attempted to do my duty 
when the king wrote it, and it nearly cost me my 
head. The crowned fool fumed like the smoke of 
that tobacco against which he blew " A Royal Blast." 

The church was crowded, and many were obliged 
to stand, for lack of better accommodation. A few 
soldiers from the castle took their place in the aisles, 
and during the reading of prayers, at every Amen 
pronounced by the clerk, and responded to by the-, 
congregation, they clashed their sheathed swords on 
the echoing pavement, and then laughed to each other. 

The parson arose to commence his discourse. His 
face had got a rueful longitude, which assisted him 
to read his text with becoming effect. 

" And there shall be rumours of wars." 

His divisions, theologically speaking, were striking 
and impressive. He mentioned, in regular succession, 
all the rumours which had been afloat ! 

" First, my brethren, when I was in the neigh- 
bourhood of Manchester, the skies had darkened, and 



330 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

all was still around, when I heard a warlike drum. 
But greater woes were to succeed, — and I fled." 

He had proceeded through the divisions, and had 
come to the last. 

" Lastly, my brethren," — 

He was interrupted by a loud report of a cannon 
fired from the castle. All sprung to their feet. The 
soldiers rushed to the gate. 

" Lastly, my brethren, — there is the cannon bring*- 
ing rumours of wars." 

His voice was drowned by another and another 
awful peal rumbling over the church. 

" The enemy ! the enemy ! " was the general cry. 
Hans was borne irresistibly along with the crowd to 
the castle ; and from its ramparts they beheld a strong 
body of troops encamping at the distance of a few 
miles. 

The governor of the castle stood with his glass,, 
After gazing long and anxiously, he exclaimed, 
" Soldiers, haste, prepare for a siege. The enemy 
will be strait upon us. They are Oliver Cromwell's 
troops." 

" The cry was raised by the multitude, " Oliver 
Cromwell!" 

What terror seized even the bravest royalist at 
that plain name ! 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 331 

The military cleared the court of the _ frightened 
citizens, and all the gates and avenues were strongly 
barricaded. The royal banner was unfurled amid 
the shouts of the inhabitants, who now resolved to 
xally. 

" We are safe for one day," exclaimed some. 
" Cromwell was never known to be such a ruffian as 
to commence an attack, much less a siege, on the 
Lord's day." 

The miller, along with the knight, as speedily as 
possible retreated to the extremity of the town, and 
proceeded homeward. 

Sir Robert Bradley's mansion was near the ro- 
mantic vale of Lonsdale. He was not a native of the 
county, but had retired there after a life spent at the 
court of James, when he observed that that sovereign's 
successor, although young and inexperienced, could 
not brook anything but honied words, and pleasant 
flattery, from his councillors ; and that to be faithful 
was to make him their enemy. Nursed by two lovely 
and affectionate daughters, he enjoyed a peaceful 
happiness he had never known amidst all the bustle, 
intrigue, and rivalry of his younger days. 

A few weeks ago, his nephew, who had joined the 
Parliamentary troops, without his consent, and against 
his expressed wish, had been captured in the field of 
battle, and the fate decreed by the king, was death. 



6<>Z LANCASTER CASTLE. 

The old knight had cursed the youthful roundhead, 
but now, even more than his ancient fondness had 
returned for his brother's son, whom he had educated 
from a boy ; and an uncle's blessing was given to the 
memory of the dead, whilst he imprecated vengeance 
on the king. But there was one of the family to 
whom the tidings came a darker message, and a more 
bitter loss. Not only were the hopes, but the very 
existence of that one — dependant. Sweet Madeline 
Bradley, the knight's younger daughter, had been 
betrothed to her cousin from childhood. They had 
tripped the same path in the vale many a morn ; and 
as many an eve they had bent to unbuckle the old 
man's shoes, their loving hands touching each other, 
and their luxurious tresses falling together. And 
when Madeline grew up into beautiful womanhood, 
when love mingles with awe and worship, bashfulness 
and timidity only served to explain their intimacy 
better. When she heard of his death, she started 
not. Amidst the tears of her sister Sarah, and the 
grief of her father for him who had been the family's 
favourite, she wept not for him who had been her 
lover. She raved not. Sir Bobert thought that she 
bore it lightly, till one evening at sunset, about a 
week after the mournful news had been told her, he 
was seated in the arbour. He heard a light step ap- 
proaching, and then a low sweet voice, as if afraid to 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 333 

be heard, making such a request, breathed its silvery 
accents. 

" Cousin, the night is so beautiful. Come, let us 
to the vale, if you would rather not be alone, Cousin." 

And when her father stepped forth, the truth came to 
her remembrance. Still she fainted not ; but she be- 
came deadly pale, and leaned for support against the 
young trees at the entrance. Alas ! her's was a broken 
heart, although unknown ; and the knight as he blessed 
her in fondness at every return of the hour of rest, 
might have read something in her deep blue eyes, 
raised so earnestly, that would have told him that she 
was not certain whether she could awake for him any 
more. With what regret she then parted from him ! 
She followed him to the door of his sleeping apart- 
ment, that a latest farewell might be allowed. But 
the good knight saw not the awful progress that death 
was making. 

The miller and the knight, on their way home, 
conversed about the arrival of the enemy. 

" My good friend," said Sir Robert, " trust me, that 
if the troops be headed by Cromwell, the Governor 
of Lancaster Castle may yield at discretion. What a 
deep, a burning enthusiasm, there is in that wonder- 
ful man, although he be turned on the wrong side of 
forty ! I cannot but believe that it is the fire of hea- 
ven." 



384 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

" Verily," replied Hans Skippon, " it will soon 
destroy the temples of Baal. But here is the foot- 
path leading to my quiet cottage. God grant that 
the soldiers be not near it." 

They parted. The miller, on entering into the 
wide glen, started as he beheld the roundhead soldiers 
there encamped. They were engaged in religious 
services. A solemn hush, disturbed alone by the 
shrill notes of the curlew and the plover, as they 
arose from the long tufted grass, was over the band 
as they listened to the exhortations of one of their 
preachers, who stood on a mass of grey rock. Hans 
was inclined to join them in their sabbath employ- 
ments, but he dreaded lest he should be retained by 
them, and pressed into their lists, although he might 
have been free from all fears upon the latter point, 
as he would have been no acquisition to the disci- 
plined veterans of Cromwell. He, accordingly, avoided 
them by a circuitous rout, on the back of a neigh- 
bouring hill, and without hindrance or obstruction, 
at length reached his cottage. He paused at the 
door. He heard a stranger's voice. It was low and 
husky; — but, unaccountably, by its very tones, he 
was spell-bound, and compelled to listen. 

e< Maiden," were the words, " thy sorrows and thy 
history, are those of our mother country. I know 
that thou wert formed by God for happiness, and was 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 335 

not England ? Now she is bowed in the dust, — but 
there is an outstretched rod for the oppressor, and an 
outstretched arm of deliverance for the oppressed. 
Both gleam from the clouds of her adversity, and 
soon, soon they reach those for whom they are des- 
tined ! Liberty cannot die while man has one heart- 
string. My maiden, cheer is for thee. Thy father lost 
his head, sayest thou ? Others may lose theirs also." 

Hans, after these words were uttered, turned the 
latch, and walked in. At the little window a soldier, 
not in the uniform of an ofhcer, but well accoutred, 
was sitting. He was gazing upon the vale without, 
and his dark grey eye glowed, as it moved restlessly 
on all the objects. The features were not finely 
formed : indeed, they might be called coarse, though 
not plain, for a wild power was expressed. From his 
broad and prominent forehead, the light red locks 
were put back. His countenance, one moment, was 
so calm and sanctified, that he might have been set 
down as a preacher of the gospel : but the next, it 
was so troubled and fiery, that he appeared a fierce 
and ambitious warrior. 

Although his eye seemed upon the full stretch of 
resolution and thought, his hand was placed softly 
upon the bending head of Mary Evelyn, whom he 
had, evidently, been attempting to console. Old 
Rachel was seated at a short distance from him, with 

/* A 



336 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

a bible in her hand, but many a look was stolen 
from its pages to the countenance of the stranger. 
Her ears caught the sounds of her husband's footsteps. 

" Hans/' she exclaimed, " is all well, that you have 
left the church so soon ? You have only been gather- 
ing crumbs beneath the table, like a graceless dog. 
Woe, woe unto short sermons, and impatient hearers ! 
You have come home before the pudding is ready. 
What's the matter, Hans ? " 

But the miller neglected to answer the queries of 
his dame, being employed in obsequiously bowing to 
the stranger. 

" Friend, kneel not to me ; I am only thy fellow- 
servant. See that thou do it not. I am but Oliver 
Cromwell ! " 

As he pronounced the word but, there was a proud 
smile passed over his features, and he arose from his 
seat for a moment, in that air of command which was 
natural unto him. His proud bearing attested that 
though he refused to receive homage, he considered 
himself entitled to it. 

Hans Skippon, on hearing the name of the stranger, 
bent down on his knees. 

u Nay, I kneel not to thee, but to the Most High, 
who hath raised thee up for a horn unto his people." 

" I am, indeed, but an instrument in the Divine 
hands; and an atom, created for working out the 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 337 

Divine counsels. I am but a small stone, cut out of 
the mountains, to break down the image of the beast. 
Good miller, arise from thy knees." 

" A very sensible advice," muttered Rachel, who 
was not altogether pleased with the lowly posture of 
her husband. 

" Didst thou pass my troops ? " inquired Cromwell, 
" and how were they employed ? " 

"They were listening to the exhortations of a 
preacher, and the very horses even seemed attentive, 
for they stood silent. 

" How different," exclaimed the dame, " from all 
other soldiers, who make the sabbath a day of wan- 
ton sport. They curse and swear like the king him- 
self. They stay at the wine-cup till their eyes are 
red, and their great toes cannot balance the bulk 
above them. Put a cap sideways on a monkey, teach 
him to say ' damn,' to look and be wicked ; take 
him to the king, and get him knighted, and he is a 
good cavalier. Knight him with a sword ! Bring 
him to me, and I should do it to better purpose with 
a rough stick ! " 

Cromwell smiled at this ebullition of feeling. 
Throughout all his life he was never known to laugh. 

" You speak warmly, dame," said he. u But 
since a sword is the only weapon of knighthood, 
they shall have one. Here," and he pointed to his 



338 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

own, lying sheathed on the casement, " is the sword 
of Gideon. That sword has been blessed as often as 
the food which I partake of. But, miller, thou wert 
at church to-day. ' Tis well ; yet I have a few things 
to say against thee ; I would thou wert either cold 
or hot." 

Rachel was looking in at the large pot on the fire, 
in which the pudding was boiling, as she thought, too 
slowly. Her temper was provoked, and she muttered, 
as she raised the pudding on the end of a stick; 
" I would thou wert either cold or hot." 
(l I have a few things to say against thee, my trusty 
-miller," repeated Cromwell. 

" A few things to say against Hans," exclaimed 
Rachel with much warmth, while she left the pot, 
and faced round to Cromwell. " Take care what 
thou sayest against Hans ! " 

" Pooh ! " was the contemptuous answer. " Thou 
fumest ; but I know how to cork every bottle of ale, 
brisk though it be. I carry stoppers, even for a 
woman — but beware.'" 

" A few things to say against Hans ! " continued 
Rachel, but in a lower voice, — "why, he's a good 
husband, a good christian, and — " 

" Too good a subject to King Charles," added 
Cromwell with a frown. " Woe unto you that still 
.dwell in the tents of Ham. God shall enlarge us and 



LANCASTER CASTLE* 

our borders ; but woe be to you. And yet, you have 
kindly given refuge to this lovely maiden, whose 
history I have heard, and whose wrongs, God be my 
witness, I shall revenge. Because Rahab kept the 
spies, she was allowed to enter the promised land, 
and because you have kept this persecuted daughter 
of a brave man, God will reward you ! " 

He paused, and then continued,, — 

" And wherefore should I induce you to leave this 
peaceful retreat, and your rural occupations ? A 
Sunday spent in the country would almost suffice to 
put an end to war, and to make brethren of all man- 
kind ! " 

He turned his head, seemingly absorbed in his own 
reflections. His eyes could not be seen. They were 
altogether buried beneath his eye-brows and his 
massive forehead. 

" In church," replied Hans to the repeated in- 
quiries of his dame, " we were disturbed by the noise 
of the cannon firing from the castle. Ah ! it is no 
longer true that we can sit under our vine and fig- 
tree, — none daring tamake us afraid." 

" Fig-tree ! " exclaimed Rachel, whose memory had 
not retained the passage, and whose reason applied it 
in a literal sense, " why we cannot even sit under the 
cherry-tree in the garden without somebody troubling 
us. Miss Evelyn and I — draw nearer, Hans, and I 



340 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

shall whisper it — were seated there, when this noble 
officer, attended by five or six troopers, came to the 
gate. And yet, he has not disturbed us much. I 
feel proud that he has come to our dwelling. As he 
entered, his sword was clashing on the threshold, 
but he said, f Peace be unto this house.' But go on; 
you mentioned a disturbance in the church." 

" Yes, cannons were fired from the castle. They 
drowned the piping of the parson. We all rushed 
out, and made for the castle. The governor stood on 
the battlements, as motionless as a sack of flour. But 
his eyes were fixed upon some distant object, and he 
exclaimed " Cromwell, Cromwell." 

These words were repeated by the miller in a loud 
voice. Cromwell started up. Hans turned his back 
and busied himself with an examination of the pudding 
in the pot. 

" Who called me by name. Who called me ? " 

No one answered. 

" Yes, it was an angel's voice ! Stay," and Crom- 
well took his boots from off his feet. " Now speak, 
Lord, for thy servant heareth." 

His eyes were wildly raised. Not one of his enemies 
could have laughed at his grotesque appearance, for 
the face was expressive of an unearthly communion. 
It was pale ; the very breath of the angel whom he 
imagined to be there, might have passed over it. 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 34 1 

" Nay, thou wilt not stay ! It is well. I could not 
execute a commission of vengeance on the Sabbath." 

It is singular that this great man was often deluded 
by visions, and communications from the other world. 
His sudden conversion from extreme dissipation had 
invested him, in his own eyes, with something of a 
wonder and a miracle. It was the same with Moham- 
med. But although this was a weakness, it was the 
source of his energies, and inflexible resolution. He 
could not believe that these fancies were the dreams 
of youth ; for he had already passed the meridian of 
life. He knew that his bodily senses were becoming 
blunted, and he therefore was willing to think that 
his spiritual senses were more acute and could distin- 
guish sounds and sights, which were strange to all but 
his gifted self. But let not his enemies mock him. 
He might assert and believe that he heard sounds 
urging him to go to the field of battle, to dare more 
than any other warrior, and usurper; but did he 
ever hear any urging him to fly, to leave undone what 
he had resolved to do ? Nay, had he actually heard 
such, he would have rejected them. Eeligion, — the 
tones of every angel above, — nay, the very voice of 
God himself, could not have made Cromwell a coward ! 

At length they sat down to dinner. A large sub- 
stantial pudding was placed before them. In those 
days, the guests of the poor had not each a knife and 



342 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

fork; nay, they had not each a plate. All things 
were in common. The miller clasped his hands to- 
gether and looked up for a blessing. And here, let 
not our readers expect something long and very pious- 
ly expressed. The spirit of the times was too much 
debased by blasphemous allusions, which are only 
redeemed from condemnation by their quaintness. 

" Hans/' whispered Rachel, " give us your best 
blessing. Let it be the one in rhyme." 

A pause was made. Cromwell's eyes were shut, 
and Hans solemnly began, — 

" Lord bless us ! Devil miss us ! 
Rachel — bring the spoons to us ! " 

The good dame was hastening to comply with the re- 
quest, when Cromwell cried, 

" Nay, miller, thou hast but asked a blessing on us. 
Let us ask a blessing on the provisions. Your's is 
but a vulture's blessing," and he himself poured forth 
thanksgivings to God, for all his mercies. 

After the repast, Cromwell spoke but little, except 
to Mary Evelyn, to whose lot he promised better days. 
But the miller was a little curious to know his intended 
movements, as it was not every day which brought 
him such opportunities for looking into the future. 

" They expect you at Lancaster, General," said he 
turning to Cromwell. 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 343 

" And yet/' was the answer, " I shall prove that 
although they expect me, they are not quite prepared 
for my reception. The walls of Jericho must fall down. 
And saidst thou, pretty innocent," as he looked upon 
Miss Evelyn with a kind eye, " that the Governor of 
Lancaster Castle, gave evidence against thy father, 
even to the death ? " 

" He did, noble warrior. My father was an old 
friend of Charles. But he could not support him in 
his tyrannic measures with the Parliament. Whisper- 
ings went abroad that my father had agreed to assas- 
sinate him. The Governor of Lancaster Castle was 
reported to have heard him say, that if the king went 
further, the nation must purchase a block, and that 
no nobleman who loved his country, would refuse to 
be the executioner ; and such evidence was given ; 
it was false. Oh ! my poor father." 

Her eye rolled wildly around, as when in her mo- 
ments of madness. The miller and his dame perceived 
it, and went kindly to console her. But the voice of 
Cromwell, though neither sweet nor full toned, seemed 
to exercise a charm over her grief, as if he had been 
some superior being ; and instead of raving, she only 
fell into a fit of insensibility. 

" Leave her to me, good people. Now my pretty 
one, put your hands in mine." 

He looked up solemnly, whilst he whispered, 



344 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

" God above, heal her mind, and heal our mother 
country. Affection may yet smile upon her, and 
kindness may cherish her, but she is a wreck. The 
delapidated temple may have the earth around, as 
green as ever, and the sky above, as holy and beauti- 
ful, but it is still a ruin. Ho ! my good friends, here, 
she breathes not. Her heart has stopped its pulse 
against my breast. Throw the spring water upon her 
face. Now she recovers. Look up, then, innocent 
one." 

In a few minutes she was able to thank him for his 
attentions. 

" It is a painful subject, but although I hear it not 
mentioned, it is ever present to my mind. Oh ! it is 
wicked in me to cherish revenge towards that man. I 
almost hate him. I almost wish him dead." 

" Blame not the wish. I have myself wished, nay 
prayed fervently for hours at the still approach of 
midnight, that the man, Charles Stuart, should die 
by our hands. He has braved the Parliament, and 
why should the judges spare him ? " 

And yet this was the man who, in after years, dis- 
solved the Parliament by force, and took the keys 
home in his pocket. Charles might not order his 
attendants in as eloquent and strong language, to seize 
the offenders, as Cromwell used, when he told his 
servants to take down, "that bauble," — the mace; 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 345 

but the king was guilty of a less constitutional 
crime than was the protector. 

He continued, in tones of scorn, while malice 
darkened over his face, — 

" If Charles be bad, why, he deserves death ; he is 
unfit to live. If he be good, it is but meet that he 
should leave this vain and wicked world for another 
more congenial to his piety, where he may inherit a 
heavenly crown. Let him bid adieu, and there is no 
honest man who could object to a monarchy in 
heaven ! Often has Charles called the crown, a crown 
of thorns. We shall ease him of it. Pity that his 
tender and royal flesh should be scratched ! Often 
has he called the throne of England a cross. We 
shall take him down from the cross, and bury him. 
Pity that he should, any longer, be a spectacle to 
angels and to men ! We shall free him of both his 
crown and his throne ! " 

" But surely not of his life ? " inquired Miss 
Evelyn, and the question was repeated by Hans and 
Rachel Skippon. 

It was unanswered : — and Cromwell relapsed into 
one of those silent moods which came frequently over 
him, even at the commencement of his public career, 
as well as afterwards, when he became Lord Protector. 

In all his conversation, Mary Evelyn had observed 
that there was something of an innocent hypocrisy 



346 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

about him. He counterfeited tender feelings, when 
it was evident, from his face, that he had none ; and 
at other times he restrained tender feelings, and ap- 
peared what he was not — cold and indifferent. But 
in his expressed hatred of the king, there could not 
be a doubt of his sincerity. The awful sarcasm was 
in deadly earnest, and the very words hissed, and 
hissed, as if they were coming from a full furnace of 
burning wrath. Neither was his love for England at 
that time insincere. Had his life been of as much 
value to it as his sword, instead of taking up the one, 
he was willing to have resigned the other. 

A knocking was now made at the gate, and when 
Rachel went to it, a soldier of the common rank in- 
quired, — • 

" Tarrieth my lord in the house ? Verily he hath 
chosen a peaceful spot. The lines have fallen unto 
him in pleasant places. Lead me the way." 

" Dost thou preach in the army ? " inquired the 
dame. 

" No madam ; verily, verily I say unto you, that 
many shall be called unto that work, but few chosen. 
But thou wonderest at the fluency of my speech. 
Ah! — out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
speaketh. I only edify and exhort in private." 

The good dame could, with difficulty, refrain from 
laughing at the uncouth soldier. He was tall and 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 347 

thin, and she afterwards remarked, — had Goliath been 
still alive, the soldier would have been an excellent 
sword for his huge hand. But he opened his lips so 
oracularly, and strode so gravely, that these circum- 
stances being taken into consideration, along with his 
leanness, he was termed by Cromwell himself, with 
no little blasphemy, when in an unusual fit of jocularity 
and good humour, " the holy ghost! " 

When they had gained the house, he made a low 
reverence to Cromwell, repeating the words, " honour 
to whom honour is due, fear to whom fear." 
" Well, my good soldier, what wouldst thou ? " 
" Will it please you, my lord, to walk forth in the 
cool of the day, and commune with thy servants, our 
captains and officers ? " 

" Yes, in a few moments I shall be with them." 
The soldier retreated to the door slowly, whilst he said, 
{i Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." 
Cromwell, in a little, walked forth alone. The 
-miller looked at his form. It was muscular, but not 
strong, and well built, but not handsome ; but all its 
movements were expressive of power." 

" He will save the nation," exclaimed Miss Evelyn, 
" and for all his greatness, he is yet so pious and 
devout." 

" I could trust that man," replied Rachel, " but I 
•could not feel anv attachment or affection to him. 



348 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

He might perish to morrow, and yet, but for our 
country, I would not mourn at his loss." 

The good dame here expressed what was the uni- 
versal feeling of all Cromwell's supporters towards 
him. He had their confidence, but not their affec- 
tion. His own daughters, at one time, were proud of 
him, but they were never fond. And in the glowing 
panegyric of Milton, we can but trace a high admira- 
tion of Cromwell. 

" Arthur Montressor," said Mary to herself, " must 
not belong to Cromwell's troops, else he would surely 
have come to see me. He is not false or faithless. 
Oh ! when shall civil war be at an end, and we know 
a home ? " 

Cromwell returned an hour before sunset. His 
step was slow. He was in a quiet contemplative 
mood, evidently not thinking of war. His head was 
uncovered, and he allowed the air to breathe its fra- 
grance upon it. He paused at the threshold, as if it 
were painful to enter a dwelling after having wan- 
dered about the vale. 

The night was beautiful and still. It was early in 
the month of May, and the sunshine had all its young 
summer innocence. In mirth it seemed now to rest 
upon the little green knolls, and then to retreat to 
the mountain. The shadows were passing over the 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 349 

white cottage, as if chiding the bright rays which 
shone within. 

" My good friends," said Cromwell e ' it is now time 
for our evening devotions. Let them not be performed 
in a house made with hands, but in the open air. And 
yet I would rather worship in your dwelling, than in all 
the gorgeous temples, which speak too much of man, 
to say any thing of God. But, let us to the garden." 

His eye beamed with a love for nature. He is 
said often to have dwelt with rapture on the beauty 
of external objects, and to have wished that his lot, 
however humble, had been cast in a pastoral retire- 
ment, far from bustle and care. Nature had first 
given him thoughts of liberty. It was not the light- 
ning and the storm, which inspired them. He cared 
not for the cold mountains, with their terrific heads 
mantled in the tempest. He looked around upon 
lovely nature. He called himself her son. It was 
not because she was free, but because she was beau- 
tiful, that he swore never to be a slave. A beautiful 
mother, and a son with a craven soul : it must not be ! 

They went forth to the garden. A pleasant arbour 
at the extremity, topping the eminence, and shaded 
with trees, was their temple. The balmy fragrance 
of eve rested on the bushes, and the glow of coming 
twilight floated in the sky. Cromwell for a moment 



350 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

listened in silence, as if the song of spirits, keeping 
their sabbath, was borne on the gentle west wind. 

" What a temple is this," he said, " to worship 
God! I cannot endure to enter churches, and there 
to gaze upon the gay gilded fluttering sons of pride, 
clothed in purple and fine linen. But here, I can 
gaze upon objects still more gaily adorned, and I 
dare not call them vain." 

" Oh ! " exclaimed Miss Evelyn, catching fire and 
animation from the republican. " Churches teach 
so much the lesson of our mortality. Many graves 
are around us. But this temple teaches us of immor- 
tality." 

(i Thou speakest well, beauteous maiden. Mortality 
is a great lesson, but immortality is one greater and 
more useful. Mortality teaches us to trace our con- 
nections and relatives in the worm. But immortality 
in God and angels ! Sin brought the first to light, 
but Christ the other." 

They all joined in singing a psalm. Mary Evelyn's 
sweet voice, with its low and tremulous sounds, occa- 
sionally induced Cromwell to be silent and listen, 
while he kindly placed his hand upon hers. He next 
read a portion of Scripture, — one of the Psalms — 
which he afterwards commented upon, in his address 
to Parliament, as Lord Protector of the Common- 
wealth. He then knelt down on the grass and prayed, 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 351 

" Father above, we come to thee ! We now bow at 
thy feet : soon we shall lie in thine arms ! Far above 
us, still thou hidest not thy face. Excuse us in this act 
of adoration, for opening our eyes to see the heavens, 
and for sinking our hands on the ground to feel thy 
footstool. The moon and the stars may not arise, but 
the clouds which conceal them, tell their tale. The 
flowers of the earth may have withered, but the clods 
of the valley, beneath which their fair young forms 
are buried, take their place, and speak to us of thee ! " 

Here he paused, as if overcome by the greatness 
of the Being whom he addressed. But soon it was 
the strong republican who prayed, and he raved about 
Israel ; Israel's God, and himself the deliverer of 
both, as he presumed. 

When he had concluded, he abruptly arose and 
left them. They followed him into the house, after 
a few minutes, but he had gone to his apartment for 
the night. As long however as they themselves were 
awake, they heard him walking up and down. 

On the following morning, the sun was not earlier 
in arising upon the turrets of Lancaster Castle, than 
were the soldiers of the garrison. They were in ar- 
mour, and the cannons were all charged and manned. 
The Governor was walking about to every post and 



I 352 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

every circle, encouraging them to do their duty to the 
king and country. 

His eyes were occasionally turned to the vale 
where Cromwell's troops were encamped. 

■" Do they yet move," said a noble youth who now 
approached. " Father, shall we able to hold out a 
siege against such a famed general ? " 

" Is my son a traitor," bitterly asked the governor. 
" If he be, then my first duty of vengeance is against 
him. No ! a king has blessed thee, and wouldst thou 
fight against him who once took thee, an infant, in 
his royal arms, and swore that thou wert like thy 
beautiful mother? Thy mother! Ha, the subject 
and the name are unfit for me. Let me not think of 
them." 

" Father," proudly replied the youth, " thou doest 
me wrong. Not only my sword, but my very life is 
pledged for the king's interest. But to war with 
Cromwell is to war with destiny. He can pray and 
he can fight." 

" Let his troops come," was the scornful answer, 
" and we shall quickly send them upon their knees, 
to attend to their devotions. See, there is spare room 
for a few thousands to pray upon the ground out be- 
fore us. They shall find room to stretch out their full 
length carcass, and they may breathe out groans 
which cannot be uttered, because they are dead ! " 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 353 

" They pray before they come to the battle. 
During it, you will not find them once on their 
knees." 

" Ha ! doubtest thou ? " exclaimed the governor. 
" If they refuse to kneel in. loyalty to Charles while 
living, why, we shall allow them, in death, to kneel 
to their mother earth, which they love so fondly, 
f dust to dust,' as they themselves would say." 

" Not before their garments are rolled in blood ! " 

" Art thou a canting hypocrite too ? Hast thou 
been baptized with the said holy fire. It is the fire 
of rebellion. Satan was the first roundhead. He 
spoke of liberty. He mentioned it in the high court 
of parliament, but royalty conquered, and the good 
cavalier angels pushed him and all his troops over 
the battlements. Let Cromwell scale these turrets, 
we shall explain to him a precipitous descent. Let 
him come." 

" Thou hast thy wish," was the reply. " His 
troops are advancing. Now for the action." 

" My brave boy," said the governor, as he placed 
his hand upon the head of his son, " forgive me for 
my harsh words. Thou art my only child, my sole 
hope. Heaven bless thee and shield thee ! But 
haste my men, is all in readiness ? " 

In half-an-hour Cromwell's troops were posted 



354 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 



upon a neighbouring hill, opposite the castle. A flag 
of truce was fixed. 

A herald from the Roundheads now advanced ; and 
being admitted into the town, proceeded to the cas- 
tle. The persons usually thus employed were half 
preachers, and half warriors, who threatened with the 
sword of the Lord, and of Gideon. The present mes- 
senger of peace, belonged to this class. Obadiah Cook 
was his name, and as he announced it to the governor, 
who appeared at the drawbridge, all the soldiers gave 
a loud laugh. 

" Friend," said the governor, " is thy name Obadiah 
Cook?" 

" It is, Sir Governor," was the reply, " I am like 
that famous prophet, who sheltered God's servants 
from the wicked Ahaz. Oh ! for a place in the wil- 
derness, that there my soul might fly away and be at 
rest ! " 

" What prevents it from flying ? Surely not thy 
body, for it is so weak. Indeed, Obadiah, thou seem- 
est too like thy namesake of old, and art too fond of 
cooking for the hundred prophets. Man, consider 
your own wants. — But your errand, Obadiah?" 

" He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. Are ye 
so deaf? The very loop holes of that idolatrous cas- 
tle, of that high-place of iniquity, condemned by the 
Psalmist, take in my words. My master, Cromwell, 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 355 

in the name of the Parliament of England, demands 
you to surrender the castle, else it shall be razed to 
the ground, and there shall not be one stone left upon 
another, which shall not be thrown down. Last night, 
when I had retired to sleep, in the midst of my medi- 
tations, I heard an angel flying through the sky, and 
crying with aloud voice ' Babylon is fallen, Lancaster 
Castle is no more.' " 

At this moment a ball whizzed over the head of 
Obadiah. 

" Is that the angel which flew through the sky ? " 
inquired the sentinel, who had discharged it, and who, 
with curses regretted that it had not gone a little nearer 
in order that the herald might have known more ac- 
curately. 

"Darest thou?" exclaimed the governor, as he 
turned to the sentinel. " Another time, thou rcceivest 
thy punishment." 

The herald continued, — 

ff You are cut off from all provisions, you shall soon 
be compelled to eat your wives, your little ones, and 
yourselves. Then surrender in time." 

" Not so," replied the governor, with a laugh, "we 
have better dainties than that. We have as good ale, 
as ever Oliver himself brewed at Huntingdon. Nay, 
I should like to have a chat with him, over some of it. 
Sentinel, throw Obadiah a loaf." 



356 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

The herald, who did not seem by any means over- 
fed, caught the descending bread, and stowed it about 
his person. 

" Now, fool, return and tell Oliver that we despise 
his vengeance, and laugh at his mercy." 

" Then," exclaimed the angry and indignant mes- 
senger, " a voice against Lancaster, a voice against 
the Castle, a voice against — " 

" Yourself. A voice against yourself," and a well 
aimed ball, from the governor's pistol, brought him 
to the ground, from off his steed. 

The report could not have been heard from the 
hill, where Cromwell's troops were posted, but the 
herald's fall must have been noticed, as instantly ac- 
tive preparations for the attack seemed to be making, 
and soon several pieces of cannon opened their fire 
upon the castle in close volley. From the upper 
batteries it was returned, and from the loop holes over 
the strong arched gateway, muskets were fired upon 
those of the Roundhead soldiers, who had broken 
down the gates of the town, and were advancing fu- 
riously. 

"Prevent them," cried the governor, "from re- 
covering the dead body of their comrade. Let him 
at least be useful in his death, and be a meal to the 
crows and the vultures." 

But although the musketry wrought havock among 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 357 

the Roundheads who approached, they bore off Oba- 
diah, whilst they put to the sword all the inhabitants 
whom they met scouring the streets in their fear. 
They returned reinforced, in spite of the cannon, 
which was now also turned against them, and they en- 
tered the church, and from the broken windows took 
aim at the besieged with their muskets. 

Cromwell remained with the soldiers on the hill, 
and was seen whenever the dense smoke was occa- 
sionally rolled away by sharp breezes which arose, 
walking from cannon to cannon, encouraging and 
giving directions. Many a ball was aimed at him, 
but he seemed to escape unhurt. 

" Old Nollj is invincible," said one of the soldiers, 
" for, now, I loaded my musket with a silver coin, and 
took such a correct aim, that I could have wagered 
that the very wart on his nose would receive the 
charge, and yet, there he is moving about, and rais- 
ing his prospective glass. He is the son of a witch!" 

Throughout the whole summer's day the cannons 
thundered. They had taken effect upon the highest 
battlements, as well as on the gateway, for these were 
sadly shattered. Many of the Eoyalists had fallen 
as they sallied forth upon the Roundheads, in the 
church ; and a few had been wounded, as they manned 
the castle walls and served the cannon. But the 



358 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

governor, a brave old man, refused to surrender, as 
long as one stone of the fortress was left. 

" See, my soldiers, the flag of Charles, still waves 
true to him, although it be in rags. Let us be as 
faithful." 

At sunset, a signal of truce was displayed, on the 
hill, and the cannons ceased ; but the party who had 
occupied the church still kept up the fire, and the 
governor directed his men not to cannonade the church 
but to retire to the turrets, where the roundhead mus- 
ketry would be harmless. As night came on, the 
inmates of the church, however, found that there was 
little good cheer to be had in Zion, The vestry had 
been ransacked, the communion cups examined, but 
no wine could be found, and there was not bread 
enough to supper a church mouse. 

" Well," exclaimed one, " it is of no use firing, let 
us barricade the doors, and compose ourselves to rest. 
I choose the pulpit for my bed. Soft cushions to dose 
on!" 

The same spirit of sleep had descended upon the 
soldiers of the castle, and even some of the sentries 
were stretched out on the battlements. The gover- 
nor and his son, did not awake them, as they walked 
together. Their eyes were fixed upon the enemy's 
camp, when suddenly a wide flash was seen, and a 
cannon shot struck against the turrets. The firing 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 359 

continued, and soon, it was as regularly returned, 
when loud shouts arose within the lower courts. The 
next moment a party of roundheads were among the 
governor's men, headed by Cromwell and Captain 
Birch, who had just arrived to act in concert with 
the general. The governor was seized and bound, 
and, along with his son, placed under a strong guard, 
while his men were put to the sword, overcome by the 
unexpected attack. The Royal flag was lowered, and 
in a short time the castle was in the possession of the 
roundhead troops ! 

" Captain," said Cromwell, " our stratagem has suc- 
ceeded. By playing the cannon, we diverted their 
attention to the hill where we were posted, and thus 
we advanced unseen. But where is the gallant offi- 
cer of your department, who led the way, and clam- 
bered up the gateway ? " 

" Here he is, general, and true stuff he is made of. 
He was captured by the royalists a few months ago : 
but last week he effected his escape. Montressor, 
stand forward, and receive the thanks of General 
Cromwell, for your bravery." 

It was Arthur Montressor. Cromwell warmly ex- 
tolled his services, even whilst he reminded him, " that 
not unto us, but unto God's name be the glory." 

" General," said Montressor, as he humbly bowed, 
" might I ask a favour, which can be of no interest in 



360 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

you to deny. Will you grant me leave of absence 
from the troops, for this night ? " 

(( Absence ! " returned the general, in a harsh voice, 
" and for what would you take absence ? For 
some nocturnal appointment with a fair one? — young 
man you are silent : it must be as I have guessed. 
Then take my unqualified denial. No such license 
here," and he turned away abruptly. 

" Montressor," said Birch, as he was about to ac- 
company Cromwell, " you remain in the castle all 
night. Should you disobey, our sentries have the 
same liberty to treat you as they would the captive 
governor. Good night ! " 

Montressor stood for a moment motionless. 

" The governor ! — thank God that I have not left 
the castle ! " 

Early on the following morning Cromwell, attended 
by his officers, entered the apartment where the go- 
vernor was confined. They found him asleep. Crom- 
well put his finger to his lips, and motioned them to 
the window, where they stood in silence. It. com- 
manded a wide view of the lawn in front, where the 
hill was almost a flat plain. Sheep and kine were 
browsing on the grass, and suggested images of rural 
peace and retirement, as if it had not been the seat 
of war a few hours previous. From their own 
thoughts they were aroused by the door of the apart- 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 361 

nient being cautiously opened. As they themselves 
stood in a recess, not directly opposite the door, they 
could watch without being observed. Nothing but 
a hand groping the way, and two bright eyes gleam- 
ing in the shade of the staircase, could be seen. The 
next moment a tall form, shrouded in a horseman's 
cloak, moved silently in. He looked at the sleeper. 
His hand trembled as it was raised to the brow. 
He started, as if moved with some sudden resolution, 
drew forth a pistol, and fired it in the direction of 
the governor. He threw back his cloak, and per- 
ceiving that the ball had not been true to its mark, 
drew his sword, and rushed forward ; — but Cromwell 
and his officers stood before him. 

" Montressor ! Beware ! " thundered forth Crom- 
well, as he seized the youth's arm. 
The report had startled the governor. 
<( Ha ! traitors ! cowardly traitors ! Do I see 
aright ? Is it Cromwell who has played the ruffian I 
Cromwell, — after pledging my life to myself in the 
most solemn oath ? And that whilst I was asleep ! 
Base, — cowardly, was the act. And why shouldst thou 
have made the young man your tool ? Could not 
your own withered hands have been stained with my 
blood, and not the white hands of innocent youth? 
Base, cowardly ! " 
" Thou doest me wrong," replied the general, as 



862 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

calmly as if he had been rebutting a slight and unim- 
portant accusation, " as these my officers, and as the 
assassin himself can testify. I had entered to pro- 
pose to you my terms of a negociation with you. 
You were asleep, and, old man, I had no desire to 
prevent you enjoying a transient solace. This assas- 
sin, — villain I will call him, though he belongs to my 
troops, entered and fired. Wretch," and he 
turned upon Montressor, whilst he stamped in fury, 
and the sweat broke out on his massive forehead for 
very anger, " why hast thou dared to inilict death, 
when I, your general, gave my oath that he should 
be in safety ? " 

He became more calm, but his eye relaxed not its 
awful sternness, although his voice was low as he 
added, 

" Young man, allow me to unbuckle thy sword, — 
nay, no scruples] — and prepare to die ! " 

All started. Cromwell turned round upon them 
with a look that forbade remonstrance. 

" I refuse not," proudly answered Montressor, " to 
die. But listen to my motives for attempting the life 
of that man. I loved. Oh ! she was fair, gentle, and 
happy, as a spirit of heaven ! General, smile not in 
scorn. Does a dying man rave in a foolish and ro- 
mantic strain ? She was more than an angel to me. 
She would have been my wife ! But her father was 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 363 

murdered, and she was an orphan, deprived of her 
home ; herself, — almost a maniac. Yes, she was 
mad when her condemned father placed her hand in 
mine, and betrothed us together, for ever and ever. 
And who was the murderer ? Sir governor, — tell me 
who caused the death of Sir John Evelyn ? " 

The governor covered his face with his hands. 
Cromwell started up from the chair which he had 
taken. 

" Sir John Evelyn ! Where is his daughter ? 
Young man, be brief, and answer me. Is she in the 
care of a miller and his wife, at a short distance from 
Lancaster ? " 

" There I left her. But I have been, ever since, 
a captive, and when I asked permission to leave the 
castle last night, in order that I might obtain infor- 
mation concerning her fate, you denied me. She 
may be dead. It would be well ! " 

" She is alive,' 5 muttered Cromwell, as he again 
seated himself. 

" Young man," said the governor in a kind tone, 
" you would forgive me if you knew all. I have, 
since the death of Sir John, learned with inexpressible 
regret, that the evidence which I gave against him 
had been artfully arranged, so that I might be de- 
ceived. I have often declared his innocence. And, 
General Cromwell, if you will listen to the prayers 



364 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

of a Royalist, and one whose life he has attempted — 
for which offence you have condemned him; oh! 
grant him a pardon, and his life ! It was but natural, 
nay, it was praiseworthy to seek my life ! " 
Cromwell shook his head. 

" It cannot be. Discipline must be enforced. I 
saw the maiden of this youth's affection and troth. 
She is a very Rebecca, beautiful and discreet. I 
promised to avenge her father's death. Yet my oath 
of safety to you has been pledged; — and woe be to 
him who attempts to make a word of mine of non- 
effect ! Captain Birch, order five of the musketeers 
to load ; and bring out the troops in the front of the 
castle. I give you half an hour." 

The captain, as he went out, frequently turned 
round to see whether Cromwell might not relent, and 
forbid such a stern order from being carried into 
effect — but no ! — 

" Not for my own sake," pled Montressor, " but 
for that of the orphan, do I ask my life. For my own 
services in a just cause, I esteem them as nothing ; 
but to die such a death, seems a poor recompense 
even for a faithful dog. General, grant me life for 
Mary Evelyn's sake ! " 

He knelt, — and along with him the governor and 
all his officers. 

"It cannot be," was the decisive reply. "But, 



/ 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 365 

young man, you shall have writing materials, if you 
have anything to charge to the living. Let them be 
brought." 

Montressor, with a trembling hand, wrote a letter 
to Mary Evelyn, and as he finished it, the drum was 
heard without. 

" To whom can I assign my last duty ? " 

" To me," replied the governor. " Trust me, that 
if I can make any reparation for the past, I shall." 

" It is well," remarked Cromwell, in cold-hearted 
cruelty, — " If any man wrong another, let him re- 
turn good, fourfold." 

Montressor, after this, was firm and collected. 
But for the slight quiver on his lips, it could not 
have been known that he was going to his death. 

" Sir Governor," he once more asked, c< wilt thou 
be kind to her ? Hast thou a daughter, to love her 
as a sister ? " 

"No — I have but a son, and he — " 

" Cannot, cannot comfort her," interrupted Mon- 
tressor with some bitterness. 

" Yet I know a knight," returned the governor, 
" whose daughters are well known for kindness and 
charity. Sarah and Madeline Bradley, on knowing 
her history, will find her a home with them." 

" A home ! Poor Mary, her best home will be the 
grave! There is my letter. Were it not that the 



366 LANCASTER CASTLE. 

sight would be horrible, I should die with this letter 
in my hand, and you would send to her, that she 
might receive it from myself ! Farewell ! I entered 
this room, a few minutes ago, with the intention of 
taking your life, and now I leave it to lose mine 



own 



l » 



Cromwell opened the door. 

" There is your way. Young man, I trust to your 
honour, therefore you remain unshackled to die." 

Already the soldiers were drawn out before the 
castle. The five musketeers who were commissioned 
to carry the sentence into execution stood in advance, 
their muskets in hand. Montr essor took his place. 

" Kneel," said Cromwell. 

" Yes, to heaven," was the reply. 

" Stay," exclaimed the general, as he rushed forth 
in a burst of tenderness. The condemned youth 
started joyfully up. Hope was kindled. 

" Young man, I love thee as a son. Take my em- 
brace," and he threw his arms around Montressor. 
" Look — for no other but you, a dying man, must see 
'Cromwell weep ! — Look at these tears. Now, my 
son. Yes, my very son, farewell ! " 

Montressor sunk upon his knees in despair. He 
waved his hand to the musketeers, and soon their 
duty was performed. 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 367 

Cromwell himself raised the lifeless body, and 
sternly said to the soldiers, 

" Let all, let each beware ! Justice and duty are 
unrelenting, even to the brave and the beloved ! " 

Well did the governor perform his pledge. The 
fatal news were communicated to Mary Evelyn by 
Madeline Bradley, who, heart-broken herself, knew 
how to feel for a sister sufferer. Sir Robert's man- 
sion was the orphan's home. She and Madeline took 
short walks together, sat together in the same easy 
chair, and slept together. Hand in hand they were 
bound for the tomb, and the foot of the one seemed 
not to be before that of the other. 

The governor, every day, (for he had no longer the 
charge of the castle,) came, and conversed with her, 
whose father he had been the innocent cause of be- 
traying to death. His son attached himself to the 
company of Sarah Bradley. The heart-broken suffer- 
ers, saw their mutual affection, and kindly fostered it. 
Often too, did the worthy miller and his wife make 
their appearance, and they were always welcome. 

It was near midnight, and Madeline and Mary were 
alone in their apartment. They lay in each other's 
arms, gazing, at times, involuntarily upon the white 
counterpane, on which the moonshine fell. They 
spoke not, but the gentle and low breathing assured 



LANCASTER CASTLE. 

them, that they had pined away together, and were 
now almost spent, and ready to go. 

" Madeline, sweet Madeline," said Mary, " Sarah 
will be a bride, in a month — we shall both be brides 
in a few hours, nay, in a few minutes. Let us be calm, 
for soon we meet our lovers." 

" Yes, my Mary, kiss me ! We need not call for 
my father and Sarah. "We are very happy alone. 
Another sigh, and all will be over. Kiss me again." 

" Yes, Madeline," and a gentle breeze came in at 
the casement, and a sweet ray of the moon' came to 
these gentler and sweeter faces — but the maidens were 
no more ! 

We may mention, that, in a few days after the 
siege, Cromwell left Lancaster Castle in the charge of 
a part of his troops. Soon, however, it was recaptured 
by the exertions of the gallant Earl of Derby. 



R. Cocker, Printer, Market-place, Wigan* 



The Publisher, when the foregoing preface was in 
type, and when, in the midst of active preparations 
to commence another volume, received a communi- 
cation from the Author to the effect, that his pen was 
of no more service. How it has been taken away 
from him it can do the public no good to explain : — 
suffice it for the Publisher to assert that circumstances 
have been forced on, which are infinitely more painful 
than a want of ability, or material in the author ; a 
want of encouragement from a kind and numerous 
public ; or a want of determination on his own part 
to continue and extend the work. 

The Author had intended, as will be seen in the 
preface, to write a series of historical scenes, — scenes 
of surpassing interest: — the Subscribers, numerous 
at the very first, were continually increasing, es- 
pecially among the higher classes : — the Publisher was 
opening new agencies, receiving new congratulations, 
and employing new resources, when an event occured 
totally unexpected, which compels him, most reluc- 
tantly, to withdraw the pledge so often given, that 
other Legends were to issue from his press. 

Wigan, May 22, 1841. 



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